The Seaside Song
by Blue Jeans
Summary: AU. A long, long time ago, in a village by the sea, the head of a small fishing village was gifted with a beautiful daughter. Book I of The Red Orchid trilogy.
1. Prologue: A Seaside Village

**Summary:** AU. A long, long time ago, in a village by the sea, the head of a small fishing village was gifted with a beautiful daughter. [ Book I of III ]

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto or its characters, but I did write this story.

**Warning:** The characters, for this part, are going to have different looks (some subtle and some not so much) from what you are used to. Everyone's names in Book I are also different and I will reveal who is who as they are revealed in the story. All of these things are intentional. This story is set in a quasi-ancient China-like setting, but does not retain all the issues of that time and culture.

* * *

**Book I The Seaside Song**

* * *

**Prologue**

**_A Seaside Village_**

* * *

A long, long time ago, in a village by the sea, the head of a small fishing village was gifted with a beautiful daughter. As she grew, it became apparent that she was blessed. Every skill she was taught she learned with exquisite grace: Song, dance, poetry, chess and even fighting. She learned everything so quickly and skillfully that the villagers soon came to believe that there was nothing she was not good at and nothing she could not be taught.

Her father and mother were both proud of her accomplishments. They sent for teachers far and wide to help their daughter grow. Her teachers were astonished at her talents and her fervor for learning more, and soon word of her excellence began to spread outside of her village. However, as the years went on, one other thing became quite obvious. The pretty girl child was growing up, and her beauty and charm were growing with her. Everyone could see that one day she would become breathtakingly lovely.

Her father's own business grew during these passing years. He had begun to invite entertainers and other merchants to his home. From their lips, as they left the village by the sea, they would speak of the quaint, growing town that housed a most exquisite flower. She had yet to bloom, but the men who saw her anticipated the day that she would.

The singers and poets who traveled there to entertain would leave to spread word that her hair was as red as liquid lava, that her eyes were as dark and green as glimmering beryl and that her skin was as silk white as the bright face of the moon. Soon, it was not her talents they sung of, but of her blossoming beauty. Her admirers claimed that soon, her lilting laughter and her honeyed voice would charm even the coldest of hearts.

The family lived happily, their growing influence and her growing renown enriching the village. Yet, a tragedy struck in her twelfth year, when a sickness came upon their village. The disease lasted only the winter, but by winter's end many villagers had passed, including the young girl's beautiful mother. Father and daughter grieved for their loss in different ways. The Father, who loved his wife as dearly as he doted on his daughter, began to spend more time working, sure that it was a lack of wealth and influence that made the discovery of a cure too late. His lovely daughter asked for tutors to teach her medicine, unwilling to experience again the helplessness of being unable to do more than watch a loved one die should illness strike again.

Without either one of them noticing, her thirteenth birthday passed and the lovely girl became a woman.

Several more years fell away. Her doting father found himself becoming more reluctant to part with his only child. Yet, as her loveliness grew with her and her talents came into fruition, suitors began to line up at his door. Each year the number increased and it became harder and harder to turn these uninvited men away. So his clever daughter proposed to her father that they would pick four subjects to challenge her suitors with. Surely this would allow her father to finally have a way to measure the worth of the men who begged for her hand in marriage. Should someone pass all the subjects, only then would she marry him. Her father discussed this at length with her and her tutors, and finally they settled on four particular challenges.

The first was literature, to test how well-read the suitor was. After all, no father wanted an uneducated son when his daughter was so well taught. The second was strategy, for her father wanted a clever man. After all, a son should not blunder through life and hope for the best. A son should be successful with a capable head and hands. The third was dance, for her father did not wish for a man who lacked the grace his daughter was naturally born with, nor did he want a weak, unhealthy man to claim her hand and give him weak and unhealthy grand-children. The fourth was music, for a man should know the worth of beauty and demonstrate that it resides within his heart, to prove to a doting father that the other could truly appreciate what a father such as he was giving up.

At first the suitors thought that it was only with each other they must prove their worth. They tousled and fought, bragged and demonstrated their skills. Yet, in the summer, the best four men found themselves facing the village head's own daughter. She was more beautiful than the songs that were sung of her, yet to their amazement, she surpassed them in all of the subjects. She was not simply lovely beyond words, but exceedingly well-read, clever in strategic games, graceful in dance and enchanting in song. Each man who went against her failed, and from that year forth the suitors came and went, like waves that surged onto the sandy beaches on the edge of the village, constant and seeking and yet always returning empty-handed.

The years came and went in this manner. Some of the suitors returned, claiming love had pulled them back. Others left, never to show their shamed and discouraged faces again. Then, one day, a beautiful young man washed up to the shores of the growing fishing town...

* * *

**to be continued...**

* * *

**Special Thanks:** To **Cynchick**, whose work inspired me to overcome an important issue in this epic. To **Raina1** who is editing the chapters, listening to my rants, pointing out the OOCs, and pretty much holding my hand through this. Without these two, especially **Raina**, this story would not be what it is.


	2. Chapter 1: A Brother's Request

**Book I The Seaside Song**

* * *

**Chapter 1 **

_**A Brother's Request**_

* * *

When he hit the waters it was warm against his chilled skin, but it was with such force that he lost his breath and his back ached from the impact.

The bitter ocean filled his mouth when he gasped and he choked on it as he tried hard to kick upwards towards the surface. For what felt like an eternity he grasped only at the oppressive sea, trying to claw his way out of this watery grave. The water met his hand and slipped through his fingers; on and on he climbed and he hoped with rising dread that he was going up. Then the pressure of the water enclosing him seemed to lessen suddenly and he broke through the surface only moments later. The sound of thunder and the pelting of rain greeted him as he gasped for air. He was assuaged by the fact that he was still alive. The sudden gulping of oxygen caused him to cough as he struggled to stay afloat, but he was infinitely grateful for being able to breathe at all.

The air burned its way through his lungs while he found himself now in a different type of darkness. Somehow he fumbled upon a piece of a ship wreck to grab onto, using adrenaline as his lifeline instead of relying on his waning strength. Clutching made him wince as he was pressed up against the wood ledge, but the overwhelming feeling of relief took with it the strength necessary to climb on. He was left to hang uncomfortably against it as the black waves swelled into dark hills around him. He could barely see anything until lightning tore its way violently across the skies overhead and the thunder roared so loudly, he felt the vibrations of it down to his bones. Only then was he able to catch glimpses of the roiling black walls of water rising and falling around him, again and again.

The night had become long and bitter, though he was not entirely sure if it was still night or day. The storm had come upon them in the afternoon. He had tried to help the men he was sailing with, grasping at ropes that burned his hands, watching helplessly as the high winds tore down the mast and ripped apart the sails that had already been drawn up. Adrenaline and desperation had been his constant companions all day and the wet chill had somewhat numbed him, though his hands still throbbed and swelled.

But he had no time to dwell on his physical discomforts, for he became immersed with the fight for survival. He watched men working alongside him go overboard when the waves came and washed them away. He saw from a distance as other men became pinned by the falling debris and the rolling, broken mast. However, in the end, he was just as helpless to prevent himself from becoming like the debris left on deck when the ship splintered and tore apart under the assault of the storm and the waves.

Somehow he had survived that and he could hear nor see any other who had the same luck as him. He would be too tired to help anyone anyway. Right now he was so exhausted he was constantly fighting the temptation to just let himself sink into the embrace of the sea again.

So tired...

Hours of struggling to stay alive had worn him down. He would be lucky if he actually managed to survive through the storm at all. There were no more ships to protect and no more men to aid. He was alone, tossed by the waves and chilled by the wind. His hands throbbed painfully, his chest, ribs and arms ached each time the waves pushed against the very thing keeping him afloat; his fingers felt fat and clumsy, even as they were going numb. Still he dared not let go.

Finally, slowly, the waves began to gentle as its violent strength began to ebb. When the chance came he hauled himself feebly up with his remaining strength and his still burning determination to live. He wiggled and straddled the wood until he finally managed to perch onto the last remaining piece of ship left. It was barely large enough to accommodate his body, but it did manage to keep him mostly out of the dangerous waters. He laid his cheek against the rough surface, panting for breath, and hoped there weren't any hungry sharks looking for a meal in the vicinity. He wouldn't be able to fend off an attack the way he was now.

In the darkness behind his eyes he saw the memory of his older brother looking up to him with expectation and then there was only blackness as the sound and lull of the ocean took away all else.

* * *

He dreams of the peach grove by the old castle.

It is March. The wind is still a little chilly, even in the bright afternoon. The knee high grass is green and the gold of the mustard blooms waver whenever a breeze manages to get over the old, worn walls. The dark branches, which had been stark and barren but a month ago, are now weighed down by the explosion of pink blossoms, some pale and some almost red in their vibrancy. The sky is blue, so blue that his eyes want to water whenever he gazes too long at it. It is this scene that he has seen for sixteen springs, before he left home, which still makes his heart ache, even in a dream.

Another breeze comes, swaying the branches overhead and he is filled with that faint nostalgic sweetness that is the scent of peaches. It is strange that there is warmth to the scent; it is not as intense as he thinks it should be, but the thought leaves his mind before it can fully form. After all, he is looking for someone here. The only reason he ever comes to this beautiful place is to search for that other person.

In the pale shadows of afternoon, he finally finds that familiar dark silhouette.

There, sitting in the curves of the branches was his older brother. As he nears he sees the other has one hand out-stretched to catch any wavered petals while a faraway look etches on his brother's face. On the other's lap is an open book with a blank page and a barely visible pale wooden slab. He knows right away that his brother has been sitting out here drawing the falling blossoms, probably while composing some more terrible poetry to go with it. It never ceases to amaze him how stubbornly his brother continues no matter how many times his older sibling fails to get better.

* * *

His brother was gifted in many things, and once upon a time he had thought no man could be more gifted until he read Older Brother's poems. When he was thirteen, he had demanded his brother to show him a similar notebook that held similar works of art and poetry. He had worded his demand into a request for a gift, one to be given to him on his birthday. All his life he had wanted to know what secrets his brother wrote in those notebooks, ones that changed by the seasons and were always within his brother's reach. He had gathered up his courage at last, so when his brother had asked him what he wanted for his coming of age gift beneath the ripening peaches, he had been more than prepared with an answer.

For the first time he saw his brother give him a look that could almost be described as shy, but his request was not denied. There, within the thin worn pages, were pictures of peach blossoms and peach trees, bare darkened branches, and inky moons. The black ink never ran into the next delicate pages and he came to understand what the wooden slab he had always thought of as a bookmark was really used for.

His brother had a sharp eye for detail and there was a melancholy in the drawings that made him catch his breath at the captured beauty. The poetry next to these effusive renditions; however, was atrocious. Every single poem he read was worse than the next and being placed beside such elegant displays of nature made the juxtaposition even more obvious.

It was the first time he had seen his brother look so hurt, but he had also never laughed so hard.

Yet, even so, Older Brother never reprimanded him for his behavior. Despite his amusement, bad poetry and beautiful art still kept his brother company on days like these. He stopped when he was next to the distant man in the embrace of the peach trees and they watched the pink petals flutter in the wind together. "I heard you are betrothed," he remembered saying at last, breaking the stillness. In his dream, his brother did not move at his voice or his words. "I came to say congratulations," he added awkwardly. The picture his mother had shown him of his brother's betrothed had been a lovely one, and their father had confirmed that he had seen the girl and the painting was not a lie.

Even in stillness he could tell his brother was... sad. Not sullen, not angry, but resigned and... sad.

"Soon, you will be the new lord, Older Brother. Your new wife is also quite lovely," he tried again, working hard to sound cheerful. Silence fell between them and he shifted awkwardly on his feet upon the uneven ground. There was another reason he was here, but he didn't know how to bring it up. He tried several times before finally he sighed and gathered his courage to him. There was no avoiding it. "I have decided to go on a journey, Older Brother. I have been thinking about this for a long time now." He paused but his brother said nothing, forcing him to continue. "I... finally decided last week when this would be appropriate. I've already asked Father for permission to leave. I have also requested a small amount of money to help me on this trip from him." He trailed off again before he willed himself to get on with it. "Older Brother, I have come to seek your blessings before you become too busy with the upcoming nuptials and ceremonies." He declared, almost too forcefully. His brother remained silent but he knew the other was listening. "I will leave only after you become heir and marry, of course," he amended, "but I see no reasons to stay after that. Not... unless you need me to," he finally added, though a bit reluctantly. Those words revealed his feelings and motives too much. He felt exposed, nonetheless Older Brother deserved to hear this from his own lips.

The fluttering paper and rustling leaves were the only sounds to disturb them for a long while as his words settled between them.

"Little Brother," his brother answered, breaking the long stretch of silence between them. He saw his brother's shoulders drop and only then did he realize how tense his older sibling had become through his speech. "I will let you go with my blessings, but I want you to make me a promise," the other began in his low, dignified voice. His older brother's tone was steady and firm. Dark, intelligent eyes met his and the pages beneath his brother's long fingers fluttered again as a strong breeze came over the wall, surrounding them with his brother's favorite scent.

He watched the other's lips move, forming the promise he made that day as the wind stole away the words.

Even though he could not hear it, he knew what his brother had asked. He had thought on those words a thousand times since he had left his home. In his dream, it was not the words that he focused on. Instead, for the first time, he recalled the look in those dark eyes, eyes that were so much like his own. They looked up to him, open and thoughtful. He saw in them the same familiar warmth and the same quiet sadness that the heir of his house only wore in the peach grove. Elsewhere his older brother was always stoic and strong. In front of their mother and father, in front of the old advisors and their countrymen, his brother was a solid rock that they could all rely and lean on. Yet, in this place, that marble face smoothed, and his brother's lips sometimes could be moved to frown or even to a smile. In a lot of ways he too had always relied on and thought of his brother almost as a god. Yet, in the peach grove, under the bloom-laden branches, his brother had allowed him to see the other side - the one that terrible poetry and detailed drawings of crescent moons and delicate blossoms only ever hinted at.

Only in these fleeting, unrecorded moments between them would his older brother allow that impassive face to reveal a half-formed thought or an unvoiced desire.

The branches above them shook, showering pink petals down upon their dark heads. The yellow flowers wavered in the green sea around them. It was not peaches he smelled though, but the unexpected salty tang of the sea. And his brother looked up at him then, so gentle were his eyes in that moment, he wondered if this was what grief looked like if one had no tears to shed.

His mouth was suddenly filled with the bitterness of too much salt and he wondered, as he looked back from what seemed like a great distance, whose tears this taste belonged to.

* * *

The sound of the ocean pulled him from his dream. His eyes felt crusty and tired, refusing to open even though he suspected that he had been asleep for a long time. Beneath him the ground was hard and it did not sway. He noticed right away that his body still ached, his lips felt cracked and his tongue felt swollen and dry. But he was alive.

Those last moments of being adrift at sea came back to him then, but he was no longer at sea, this much was obvious.

He shifted and failed to turn, causing a huffing sound to form behind a mouth that was too dry to properly open. He now understood that the bitter saltiness was not from his dreams but from his current condition. He heard a gasp of surprise from somewhere close by, followed by a rustling of clothes and the shifting of limbs. A cool cloth was put to his parched lips, soothing it slightly and unsealing them before being pulled away. It had a musty smell to it yet nothing had ever felt so heavenly. It came back and gently began cleaning his face. He had never been so grateful for the feeling it incited. Finally, slowly, he was able to open his swollen eyes. The cool drops of water fell through his now parted lips. Just a few drops, and it was so sweet that his clumsy tongue flicked out to try and catch more. When he found no more he opened his mouth wider, even though the corners of his lips protested at the strain.

"Slowly, slowly," a rusted, laughing voice scolded him. It was soothing and feminine. His head was gently tilted then, and a cup was put to his lips. He tried to slow down but his body also wanted to submerge itself into the cool, clean taste. Still, firm, rough hands forced him to slow and not choke on the water before it was taken away. He protested but they were feeble and ignored. He gasped as he was laid down again onto the woven cloth, his hard bed, and he could do nothing more but stare at the straw ceiling overhead. He concluded that he must have cracked a rib because it was a little bit painful to breath, so he tried neither to move too much nor to breathe too hard, though he sensed that he was bandaged wherever it was appropriate.

Presently he became aware of the distant roaring of waves and the sounds of gulls in the distance.

He was not dead, he repeated to himself in continuing surprise. Someone had found him and saved his life. He forced himself to turn and saw an old woman returning back to his side with a damp cloth in her hand. She leaned forward toward him and he realized she wanted to put it over his eyes. He turned back to the ceiling and closed them obediently to allow her to do so. The weariness he still felt would be soothed by it, after all. Somewhere between wanting to ask her where he was and sighing in relief at the feel of the cool cloth on his eyes, he lost consciousness again.

He dreamed of the ocean and the swaying ship. He dreamed of drowning into the dark watery depths. He was dragged down by an unseen force until he hit the bottom of the ocean. There, in the darkness, the scent of peaches came and he was at the grove again, looking for his brother. Something cool was placed on his hands and he remembered how the rope had felt as it flew out of his grasp, the burning friction red and cutting on his senses.

He looked down at his hands then and the rope lay there innocently, as if it had never flown out of them with such a force that jarred his shoulder and slammed him onto the rail of the boat. The branches of the peach grove swayed and petals caressed his chest and hair.

Was Older Brother there?

The scent of peaches flooded his lungs again. No, it was salt water. He was drowning again. He was at the bottom of the ocean floor.

Sea gulls called to him, their distorted voices echoed tauntingly from far above his watery grave-

He woke, gasping. A warm cloth fell from his forehead as he shifted his head. The empty inside of a hut greeted his eyes and his one outstretched hand was bandaged. He swallowed and slowly came to his senses. He had not drowned and he was not at the bottom of the ocean. He was in a small house by the sea. Voices came and the door on the other side of the small house opened to reveal an old man and an old woman walking through the door, smiles on their faces as they looked at each other before both noticed he was awake.

"Ah, young man!" the old man greeted him cheerfully, meeting his bewildered stare. "Glad you made it through. Guess you're stronger than your pretty face suggested, eh?" The old man guffawed at his own joke as the old woman promptly shook her head and sighed audibly. She moved to the corner of the house and filled a cup with water, bringing it to him when she was done.

He took it gratefully in his shaking hands and chugged it down greedily.

"Slowly, slowly," the old woman cautioned him with a small chuckle of her own. He vaguely remembered, as if in a dream, that she had scolded him similarly when he had woken the last time. When he was done he saw that the couple seemed relieved by his sudden show of vigor.

"More," he demanded, returning the cup back to her, his hand steadier this time.

The old man laughed again. "More, he says," the old man mimicked. "What a demanding fellow!" the old man slapped his thigh and grinned at him while the old woman rose and complied with his request. "You got a name to you, young lord?"

He frowned at the teasing light in the old man's eyes, but it was not difficult to guess that these two were probably the ones who saved him from death's door. He owed the both of them more than his name. "Untouched Snow," he answered.

"Untouched Snow, eh?" the old man muttered thoughtfully, stroking his bearded chin. "Ah, it's a good name, I guess." The old man said grudgingly. When the old woman came back he remembered himself enough to thank her this time. She only smiled a shy smile at him with reddened cheeks that showed despite her brown, leather skin. Her reaction caused the old man to snort when the other caught the look. "Psh, you fussy old woman, stop fawning over him. You fall far too easily for every pretty face," the old man muttered in a huff.

The old woman frowned at the old man mighty fiercely for accusing her of having wandering eyes. "You had a good looking face once," she retorted back. "Now, not so much," she emphasized with a sweeping, pointed glance. The two of them glared at one another until they suddenly both broke out into grins and laughed.

Snow felt tired just watching them talk.

"Where am I?" he asked quietly when the couple settled.

"Eh, in a fishing town," the old man answered, cleaning his ear with a bony brown pinky. The old woman slapped at his hand for being rude but the old man just shrugged her away. The other gave better information after this though and Snow came to the realization that he had landed on the beach of a growing township in the country bordering his own. He must have drifted quite a ways to get where he was now, but it was already a miracle that he had survived the trip. It wasn't anything to complain about as he had been aiming to come to this country when he had set off from port anyway. The old man and old woman confirmed his suspicions that they were an old, married couple. The old man was a fisherman who had fished him out of the sea and the old woman had nursed him back to health.

The old man was called Little Dragon and his wife was named Sea Lotus, though the old man just called her his Small Treasure. They were lean, brown, hard and wrinkled. Their humor was crude and their laughter was loud and boisterous. But their eyes were kind and warm. They had saved his life. As the night came over the little hut and the old man and the old woman shared their simple food with him, always making sure to give him more than themselves, he made his decision while he watched them have an animated conversation back and forth. The old man joked about his poor back and the old woman sighed dreamily over Snow's young, stiff limbs, which caused her husband to complain loudly and with great gusto.

Days went by in this manner. He was too weak to do much else but sleep and recover during this time. Then, slowly, he regained the ability to walk and he scoured the beach in the early mornings, barefooted before the sand got too hot. He found that he too was becoming dark and brown under the summer sun. When bored in the day he began to ask the old woman for chores to do around the house and to show him how to properly weave and mend the fishing nets Little Dragon used. She happily complied and soon he had several things to occupy his time.

Sometimes, he would catch the longing in the old couples eyes when they looked at him and he wondered if they had children that had long since left home, though he did not ask. Then, one day, over a week after he woke, he rose and followed the old man out of the hut before the sun could break out from under the sea. "Let me help you fish," he said as they went out onto the beach.

"Heh," the old man chuckled at his words. "I found you on a piece of ship-wreck, boy. Do you even know how to swim?"

He nodded stiffly, though he didn't admit that he wasn't very good at it. The old man scanned his form and chuckled all the more knowingly but seeing his face the old man's own face sobered. "You want to help, eh? I don't have money to pay for help."

He shrugged at this, having already arrived at the same conclusion some time ago. "You saved my life. You feed me, clothe me and house me still. It is the least I can do," he answered evenly in return. "I am willing to learn if you are willing to teach me," the last part was more of a challenge than a request.

The old man stroked his long, wispy beard and studied him for a long moment. "Alright," the old man conceded with a snort, a slow smile spreading upon those worn lips. "Alright boy," Little Dragon muttered, almost gently this time, and led him down to the beach where a little fishing boat sat waiting.

* * *

**to be continued...**

* * *

Untouched Snow = Sasuke

Older Brother = Itachi

Little Dragon and Sea Lotus are created solely for this story, they belong in the realm of fantasy and not Naruto.


	3. Chapter 2: A Changing View

**Book I The Seaside Song**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**_A Changing View_**

* * *

Untouched Snow was not enjoying his trek through town. The swelling sounds of animals, merchants and customers mingled together into waves of incomprehensible noise. He carried the last of their catch and wound his way through the throngs of people. A wooden pail covered by a damp piece of cloth occupied his one hand and the carcass of a large fish was steadied on his shoulder by the other.

The sizzling sound of evaporating fat and the rich aromas of cooked meat, the sour tang of sweat, and the unmistakable stench of other less pleasant odors assaulted his nose. A few times grey smoke and sooty ash blew into his eyes, almost blinding him. The harsh shouts of the sellers' voices rose and fell away as he walked passed their stalls, advertising their wares. Those around him gossiped and shouted as people jostled each other under the summer sun, trying to go about their business. The voices of the merchants were especially harsh, scraping themselves against his nerves and dogging after his footsteps with promises of great bargains and special deals.

Snow couldn't help but frown as he walked passed, balancing his heavy load as he wove his way through the crowd. Years of learning to fight made his body strong and agile, and years more on the road had given him an increase in stamina and endurance. He had lost quite a bit of both from his bout with the sea, but they were still assets to be used in his current situation. Even though he was especially adept at dodging people and had been specifically trained for such things, it still failed to make the marketplace any more pleasant. No matter where he went or how deftly he side-stepped thieving children and gossiping wives clumsily going about their daily shopping, the press of human bodies still invaded his personal space. On hot, muggy days like this one, it made him despise this necessary evil that was the activity center of all towns and cities even more.

This growing town, while smaller than many of the ones he had already travelled through, was still bustling with business. The noise agitated his ears, the smell clung to his clothes, and the heat, from both the crowd all around him and the unrelenting sun overhead annoyed him to no end. He had, however, promised the old man help and he had been taught to keep his word no matter the circumstances. Snow gritted his teeth and fought down the urge to snarl at the next merchant audacious enough to approach him despite the thunderous look that was starting to cloud over his face.

And yet, it was in this den of noise and stifling atmosphere, that Snow first heard her voice.

* * *

Her voice was clear and lilting. It had a cultured tone that softly cut through the incessant buzz of the marketplace like a sharpened blade. It reached his ears just as he spotted Little Dragon's stall. While he could not decipher exactly what it was that was being said, he spotted the woman hidden by the white and pale green parasol and knew instantly that it was her voice that he had heard. She wore a light blue dress, bordered by black and he saw the white of her trailing sleeves as the pale material of her seer and airy jacket moved ever so slightly from the breeze created by the motion of passing travelers. He next heard the old man's rough, unrestrained laughter in response to whatever comment she had made and Little Dragon's sly reply was heard more clearly as Snow approached. He had reached their booth, just as the old man bade her farewell.

Snow caught sight of her parasol lifting as she turned to go. His eyes were still adjusting to the shade when her head came into view. In a flash the white and green of her parasol came down again and her back was turned to him. He had only briefly caught a glimpse, but he had seen that her skin was fair with a pearlescent glow and that her hair was red like liquid fire, coiled and tied back in a rippling cascade accented by her parasol and white pearl combs. He almost stilled at the unexpected vividness of those contrasting colors, but he got hold of himself before he could do something truly embarrassing. Little Dragon still shot him a knowing look that told him the other hadn't missed the slight stutter in his walk as he entered their booth.

Snow's arms ached from the weight and the duration of his trek. His body was no longer as fit as it had been before he had left the port of his own country. Still, it felt good to move like this again, even if he didn't enjoy the locale or the weather. Snow set down the heavy cargo then, carefully depositing it. Little Dragon watched, fanning himself with a worn bamboo fan.

Snow lifted the cloth that protected the wooden pail's contents from the direct heat of the overbearing sun. Beads of sweat fell into the warm waters then, even as Snow straightened away. The fishes inside the wooden enclosure wriggled in agitation, showing that they too were discomforted by the unmoving heat and they didn't seem to appreciate the added disturbance to their environment. Snow couldn't blame them. It had been a long walk from the shade of the hut to the shade of the stall. Even with the protection of the wet cloth that was now warm and dry, it was nowhere near ideal. He turned then, carefully setting and unwrapping the carcass of the dead fish closer to the counter, a place where passing customers could see better their offerings.

"Ah," Little Dragon grunted in the heat with lackluster approval when Snow was done. "It's so nice to have a young man to do all the heavy lifting," Little Dragon continued with a nod. There was, for only a brief moment, a familiar nostalgia that Snow had come to recognize in the old man's grin. The expression was gone in a flash, and it had been mostly hidden behind the old man's beard and fan, but Snow still caught it. He knew what to look for now. The longer he stayed with the old couple, the more often he observed this one look that came over the two of them in strange intervals during the day.

He didn't ask though. Instead, Snow carefully wiped at his brow in the heat. It did no more than keep a few stray beads of sweat from stinging his eyes but it was still a relief nonetheless. His body continued to feel feverish after his earlier excursion and the hot air around him wouldn't be cooling him down any time soon. The sweltering summer sun beat down mercilessly, until the very air seemed to sizzle, vibrating when one looked over the heads of the passing pedestrians. It was a good thing they had been careful to arrive early enough to set up some shade over their own stall. The fore-thought had been a main draw for the customers since late morning.

"This is the last of it," he told the old man as he cleaned his hands and nodded at the carcass, flexing his fingers to rid them of the stiffness from carrying the heavy pail. Little Dragon grinned even wider at him and he noticed, now that his eyes had adjusted to the dimness, that the old man seemed a little flushed around the cheeks. Somehow Snow didn't think it was due to the heat of the day. The old man, unlike him, was as dry as a roll of aged scroll, lazily waving that worn, yellowed fan back and forth as they waited for more customers to arrive.

"Who was the girl?" Snow finally asked, trying to not seem too interested in the answer as he sat down and took a rest. The servants and her clothes gave the impression that she was from a well-to-do house or a merchant's family. The numbers in her company set her apart from common merchant stock. But what interested him was what she left behind. Snow eyed the package that was given to Little Dragon by said "girl" as he waited for the old man to answer. He had seen the exchange as he neared, but he couldn't deduce what the package contained. The basket was tucked safely away, close to where he had sat down. It was placed furthest from the gutting board, but still in-sight from behind the counter, so the old man could keep an eye on it without passersby being able to easily spot it.

Little Dragon reddened further at his inquiry and now Snow had confirmation that the blush wasn't due to the heat, as he had suspected. "My friend, that is the very famous, and very beautiful, flower of our village," Little Dragon declared, his wiry chest puffing out. There was such pride in the old man's stance that Little Dragon came off looking like a proud rooster, ready to crow at the rising sun to show off his voice. Snow was not entirely convinced by the old man's words and raised a brow at the other's show of pride.

The young woman did seem pretty enough from his glimpse of her, though he had not seen more of her than the pallor of her skin, the line of her brow and cheek bone, and the strange and otherworldly quality of her hair. She was definitely eye-catching, if nothing else, but one couldn't judge a woman's beauty on such small glimpses, even if the men who had seen her face all seemed to react with varying degrees of awe.

This was a small town, after all. Standards usually changed from place to place. He doubted this town was the home of any great beauty, and suspected that their flower was merely prettier than most in the region. Her coloring would certainly ensure that men would look twice when she passed and she seemed to have a good eye for fabric and dress, which reflected her father's station. Her father's ability to afford these luxuries probably helped elevate her looks to the villagers who lived here, but it was unlikely she would be able to out-shine the city girls he had seen waving their silk scarves and smiling their expertly painted smiles in the capital of his own country.

"Her name is Red Orchid. She's the head-man's daughter and only child," Little Dragon explained while he continued to openly study Snow's reaction to this tidbit of news. She had a lovely name. Snow, however, perked up on hearing about the village's leader being mentioned by Little Dragon for the first time. He had suspected her station from the quality of her clothes and the jewels in her hair. It also explained the entourage. Still, it was rare for a village leader to be a merchant. Usually they were more land-owners or someone who had some title. Rarely had he heard of the honor given to new money, though their wealth tended to buy them other forms of power.

The town was benefitting from this, Snow could see. It was growing and expanding and Snow would not be surprised if this was a reflection of the one who was in charge of it. Still a merchant's wealth was unstable, and no matter how clever the man was, Red Orchid was the child of new money and new money rarely lasted if it did not marry into a land-owning family of power. He would not be surprised if she was destined to be the wife of some impoverished lord, somewhere with a title for sale. Even as a second son, Snow was considered in higher standing than her father, despite the other's wealth. Ironically, he was the one currently in rags, but it was not uncommon.

"She was actually here to drop off some medicine, but she stayed to chat and bought a few fishes for her dinner tonight." Little Dragon continued with a slight hint of annoyance when Snow's face remained blank and unimpressed. Snow also noticed that Little Dragon sounded gruffer and gentler than usual, in a manner that one would expect from a man who was speaking about a daughter instead of a customer. Perhaps there was a story there as well, but it wasn't his place to ask any more than the grief he recognized passing like cloud shadows across the old couple's faces when they looked at him from time to time.

Red Orchid, it seemed, was well liked by the old fisherman. Still, a merchant's daughter was hardly worth getting worked up about. Snow would like to know more about the merchant who ran the town though. But... did Little Dragon just mention a delivery of medicine?

Snow actually widened his eyes at this little revelation and Little Dragon finally looked a bit mollified by his show of interest. "Is she an herbalist around here? Or is her father's business one that specialize in medicinal shipping?" Snow asked with piqued curiosity. He had yet to meet a head-man's daughter involved in such a profession, but it may be due to her merchant roots and the size of the village itself. However, rare was a man who shipped medicine in any great quantities. Snow would not have imagined such a business to be able to afford the silks he had seen Red Orchid wear.

No high-lord's daughter that he had met would be caught dead being involved in any such a profession or be put to the task of delivering goods for her father's business either. It tended to show a failure of the head-of-house's ability to provide for the rest of the family. However, why would the daughter of the leader of this village distribute medicine when there were far more qualified hands to do so than her own? And while women tended to be more into herb medicine as a profession, it was rare and usually only done by the widows of particular areas. The former choice usually involved fathers who did not dress their daughters in such expertly dyed hues and silks. The latter choice usually involved poor women who needed to make a living on the side now that no husband was around to provide the necessary income. Red Orchid did not fit either category. She must also have been some-what educated on plants, something that never interested his female cousins and the women paraded before his brother as candidates for marriage. Even in all his travels, this was the first time he had heard of a woman of her standing being so intent on such things. However, she also didn't look like she needed this particular type of knowledge any more than they did, not by the number of trailing servants in her wake or the growth of the village that must reflect the wealth of its head-man.

And this hobby must surely bring disgrace to her father's honor...

"No, no," the old man shook his head and his fan at Snow, interrupting his thoughts. "She is this town's doctor," Little Dragon declared. The old man seemed indignant that Snow could even suggest that Red Orchid would be anything less. This time he couldn't help but show his shock, his spine straightening as he sat up in attention and he was quick to close his momentarily slackened jaw.

Doctors were even rarer than widowed herb masters. Female doctors were almost unheard of. This Red Orchid must be exceedingly well-educated then, which meant either her father was wealthier than Snow originally suspected or the other was very bookish, or a combination of both. Snow wondered then why even a fisherman like Little Dragon would know and spread such knowledge with ease and act as if the head-man would prefer it to be widely acknowledged. There were consequences to propagating something so unfavorable, especially when this type of growth in a town hinted that an ambitious man was at the helm. An ambitious man who would surely want to marry his pretty daughter off to a traditionalist lord, impoverished or not, to increase his own power. Little Dragon seemed utterly unaware that traditionalist families did not look greatly on daughter-in-laws with too many ideas in their heads. While an education was well-respected, and a clever girl was never shunned, too much of such a thing could out-weigh all the good points Red Orchid might have had in her favor. Snow had heard countless times how his own mother lamented the lack of cleverness in Older Brother's previous possibilities, but Father's comment that a too-educated woman was never desired had lingered in his mind just as long. Despite the old man having already shown Snow the other's considerable favor towards Red Orchid earlier, Little Dragon's actions in defaming her contradicted this impression. Surely, this was not something an ambitious man like the village leader would want to spread.

It was strange that such a thing was so well-known and Snow wondered at its significance.

"She's a hard bargainer too, that one!" the old man continued, blithely unaware of Snow's sharpening gaze. There was that unexplained smile again, the one that seemed a little sad, flitting across the old man's weathered face. "A true merchant's daughter to the last, she is," Little Dragon muttered, words spoken softly and directed at himself more than at Snow. The young man saw the sadness linger unusually long on Little Dragon's worn face, the deep groves seeming to deepen on the other's brown, leathery skin. The look usually came when the old couple watched him eat or mended fishing nets. It was a hungry look, full of longing, but this was the first he saw it aimed at someone else and lasting long enough to truly be observed with detail. The old man stroked his own beard thoughtfully as the other seemed lost in some distant memory. Then, Little Dragon blinked, and the moment finally passed. "I wanted to give her a deal for the fishes too, since she's been so good to us. But the child wouldn't hear of it! She's out-witted me in bargaining again, and then had the gall to make me laugh about it!" Little Dragon continued, as if the melancholy silence had not been awkwardly stretched. The old man's chuckle was natural, but Snow saw the fan wave quicken and wondered what meaning lay beneath these subtle movements and those lingering, sorrowful stares. "She even claimed that Little Treasure would be jealous if it was discovered that I was being such a flirt," Little Dragon boasted with a smile, amused as the other recounted the conversation to Snow excitedly. The young man raised a brow again at Little Dragon's words. It seemed the old man liked a pretty face as much as the other had accused his wife of earlier.

"She wouldn't take a discount?" he echoed slowly when Little Dragon finished talking, even though he was getting a little tired of this constant state of disbelief he was being put into. Surely he had misheard? This was the first time he had someone compliment the bargaining skills of a merchant's daughter, only to tell him that the woman in question bargained up.

Little Dragon chuckled at him again, only this time with an unseemly cackling that wrinkled up his face even more. The old man was really enjoying his reactions a bit too much for Snow's liking. "Said she didn't need the money even though she's practically giving away her salves and medicines already," the old fisherman said with a snort. So it was true. Red Orchid's father was well off enough for her to state that money was the last thing she lacked. Common sense, on the other hand, clearly seemed to be missing. "Granted, everyone knows she never keeps the little money she does make anyway," the old man added with a sigh.

Perhaps, Snow reasoned, she acknowledged that having an income with her status was improper and was trying to balance that out with the rules she was already breaking by having a profession at all. It seemed unlikely, but he couldn't think of another logical explanation to this.

"Well, I guess this means we'll have to make a few special deliveries soon," the old man declared, rubbing his neck. Little Dragon didn't think to elaborate despite the questioning look Snow shot at him. Did this mean they would be sending some free fish to Red Orchid's residence? The round-about conversation gave him a slight head-ache and the heat wasn't helping.

Snow paused and rethought asking his next question. This head-man's daughter was passing strange and her actions, by his family's standards, showed a lack of class that his father had often prejudiced on the new wealth that were springing up from the merchant class. From what he had heard of the village's leader and from what he had already seen of the town's progress, it made him exceedingly curious about the man behind it all.

While he had met many merchants in his travels, he had categorized them as either hard and mean or soft and greedy, but the daughters of such men tended to reflect their fathers more than some might think. Red Orchid did not fit the image of the merchant daughters he had met, or the daughters of village leaders. Her willingness towards charity was a trait that he rarely saw in women of her status, not even of women he had known in his life. His cousins were certainly more prone to such things than the daughters of the merchants he had chanced upon, but not to the extent Red Orchid had gone to. While his own mother had also liked to help out those under their protection, especially after great disasters that occurred on their vast land holdings when she could, no one he knew took up a profession and then mingled with the commoners as often as Red Orchid seemed to be doing.

It made Snow curious to the type of man who would raise such a daughter.

Still, he quietly added a lack of sensibilities to the growing list of eccentric failings that this Red Orchid seemed to possess from Little Dragon's revelation. He certainly was intrigued that such a woman existed and while he was curious, it was unlikely that he would approve of what she did with the little money she happened to have earned and kept. Snow, knowing this, kept the inappropriate questions that came to mind to himself. Further inquiries from him and he would come off sounding like a gossiping house-wife. He certainly didn't want to reinforce the image where Little Dragon was concerned, especially with the old man looking so gleeful. While he wanted to ask more questions concerning Red Orchid's father, Little Dragon might find other meanings in there that Snow had no intentions of implying.

Snow didn't want to show his disdain at Red Orchid's behavior, not when it would obviously displease his host. It was a perfectly reasonable reaction, but it seemed that tradition would not be a good enough excuse to mollify Little Dragon if he spoke ill of Red Orchid. Snow, knowing this, swallowed the remaining questions on the tip of his tongue and kept silent. He pointed instead at the customer Little Dragon had neglected to take notice of.

At first, Little Dragon narrowed shrewd, brown eyes at his gesture before finally turning to see what Snow was pointing at, and when the old man's gaze landed on the waiting customer, Little Dragon's face smoothed into an expression of delight. The old man now wore the look that one would think was reserved only for an old friend that had not been seen for some time, not a stranger hoping to escape the sun and buy some fish.

Snow sighed silently to himself at this act yet listened carefully nonetheless at the back-and-forth between Little Dragon and their determined haggler. At least this customer had the sense to bargain down, Snow thought wryly. While Snow disliked the whole market ordeal in the first place, the old man did bring him along today to teach him how to run shop and he had promised he would learn whatever was necessary to help out and he had meant that promise. He had planned to stay at least a year to see it through. Unfortunately for him, it didn't mean that Snow had to enjoy all of his lessons. After that discussion concerning Red Orchid, Snow realized there were worse things he could be forced to listen to and participate in.

"Do you sell peaches?" their customer suddenly asked, breaking through his thoughts as he tried hard not to look too incredulous at the customer's idiotic question. It seemed his day was quickly filling itself up with unexpected meetings and ridiculous exchanges. The current customer didn't notice Snow's expression since the other was too busy sniffing at the still summer air for that distinct, sweet fragrance. The man's dark eyes seemed to fairly gleam with anticipation as he looked expectantly to Little Dragon. Snow preoccupied himself with wrapping the customer's orders up, focusing on the task before him to mask the ridicule he might have otherwise expressed for the inquiry.

"No," Little Dragon answered slowly with a patient, pleasant smile as Snow kept his face wisely blank, "we only sell fish." Little Dragon gently pointed this obvious tidbit out without pause.

"Oh," the customer said with drooping, disappointed shoulders, even as his purchases were handed to him by Snow when the payment was received and properly checked. "But I was sure..." the man continued to mutter, mostly to himself, as he turned and walked away. Snow looked after the once shrewd looking man, slightly bewildered at the change.

Little Dragon didn't seemed particularly bothered by the encounter though, and lazily fanned himself in the stale, unmoving heat of the day.

* * *

Sea Lotus greeted them both with delight when they returned to the small hut by the sea. Little Dragon gave her a detailed report of their market day, animatedly strutting around the hut and imitating a few of their customers so accurately that even Untouched Snow was moved to smile - just a little. Little Dragon and Sea Lotus noticed this though, and both grinned triumphantly at each other not-so-secretly, much to Snow's chagrin.

When Sea Lotus saw the package left by Red Orchid, however, her face brightened so much that Snow had a small glimpse of how the old woman might have looked in her younger days. "Oh, this must be from Little Orchid," Sea Lotus almost cooed over the basket. "She's such a dear, sweet girl. Always concerned about the welfare of everyone in the village! The town grows and her heart grows with it," the old woman said with a contented sigh. Sea Lotus looked touched and proud at the same time, reminding Snow of her husband.

"She was asking about you too, Little Treasure," the old man told his wife. "It hasn't been long since her last visit but she's always been a bit of a worrier," Little Dragon said with a grin. "The festival's coming up too! You'd think she'd be too busy for us now that it's almost here. Always surprises me when she gets around this time of year, but she manages somehow, our flower."

Snow looked to the old man with puzzlement. He had been here a month already, so he wondered if Red Orchid had visited just before his own arrival. He had also heard of the upcoming festival as well, despite the short time he had been to town, and wondered how any of this tied up with the eye-catching red-haired woman he had seen this afternoon. Red Orchid's role in the festival must be quite large to preoccupy her so much, and he was curious about what that role may be. Snow had never been moved to wonder what the proper duties of a head-man's daughter entailed, though he doubted that it involved being a doctor or any of the charity she had shown to Little Dragon - and surely others like the old fisher couple. In the end, Snow doubted there were many women daring enough to do the activities that Red Orchid so proudly went about without even an attempt at hiding it.

While he had always been taught that a woman's role in being the good daughter or the perfect wife lay in running the household, Red Orchid seemed determined to defy all those expectations. It unsettled him. It also caught his attention. He wondered if this was what her father had planned all along and wondered how many other tradition-minded lords have been caught off-guard by this surprisingly clever ploy.

He was even more curious now about the festival than before he knew she was involved. The town was fairly abuzz with the excitement concerning the preparations for it. Snow had first thought it was the Moon Festival they were preparing for, and while he assumed correctly, it was obvious that there was something else underfoot, one of long standing. Certainly the villagers would celebrate the new Moon. Snow had seen the beginning preparations for paper lanterns of all shapes and sizes, lining the stalls set up specifically for the upcoming week of celebrations. Yet, the outpouring of foreign merchants lately, along with the growing number of strangely dressed men in the streets gave a different impression. He never quite gleaned the full details of the occasion because he had pegged that this increase in foreigners was due to business with the head-man and the general incoming of travelers for the festival, but some curious snippets he had overheard did bring doubt to these earlier assumptions. Snow acknowledged that he was still rather ignorant of the whole ordeal - the one topic that everyone else seemed privy to. The main topic centered on certain games and contests, but he never got the full details for any of those half-heard conversations.

Snow caught Little Dragon's eye before he asked. "I have heard about the festival. Am I mistaken in thinking this is a celebration of the new Moon?" he asked.

Little Dragon studied him but it was Sea Lotus who answered him without guile, pulling Snow's attention away from the old man. "It is for the new Moon we celebrate," she confirmed. "However, it is also at this time that four of Red Orchid's most skilled suitors contest for her hand."

Snow kept his face as blank as possible. He was surprised but it confirmed his suspicions that Red Orchid's father was indeed a clever man out to ensnare a large fish. The bait was against everything he was taught to value, but even Snow had been intrigued to see for himself the extent of Red Orchid's over-education. A contest would certainly garner an audience and perhaps divert the attention away from the woman in question. "She has many men after her hand then?" Snow inquired. As soon as the question left his mouth, however, he regretted it. While he was curious about the head of the village and the man's strategy in gaining power, his line of questioning would surely get him a whole different sort of attention.

Little Dragon's expression, when Snow looked to the old man, confirmed this. Little Dragon was not just a lover of gossip, but one who claimed to have a romantic heart. Every afternoon spent in the marketplace confirmed for Snow the extent of Little Dragon's devotion to keeping tabs on the hearts of the villagers, young and old. The growth of the female population visiting their stall seemed to exacerbate this quality in the old man. Little Dragon turned out to be as interested in the faces and figures of his customers as he was in the rumors they spread. The ones the old man seemed to enjoy the most concerned love or lust, or a combination of the two, an interest shared by the women who frequented their stall more and more. The seemingly endless stream of who was seen with whom and who was caught cheating on who was a constant staple to Little Dragon's seemingly endless appetite. While Snow had gained the skill to tune this out by refusing to focus on the conversation going on next to him, he wondered now how much he had missed in gleaning information concerning the contests surrounding Red Orchid's suitors.

"Many more than even my Little Treasure could count," Little Dragon said with a sly glint in his eyes. "They preen about town throughout the year, though not as much in the last few weeks before the festival. Only the top four who has beaten all others in the challenges get to go against our Red Orchid." The old man said, leaning forward towards Snow with sharp, observant eyes.

Snow looked back, but this time he could not hide his surprise. "They-" he paused but his curiosity pushed him to ask "-challenge her?" he finally finished, keeping his shock out of his voice even though he couldn't keep it from his face.

"Oh yes," Little Dragon replied with a widening grin and Sea Lotus nodded eagerly along to confirm her husband's words. "None has beaten her yet in all four contests!" the old man proudly declared.

"Oh, but that young, handsome fox boy got her in two of the four already. He hasn't returned yet for this year though," Sea Lotus told Snow with a hint of a blush on her brown cheeks and disappointment in her final words.

"That boy is a wily one and obstinate to boot." Little Dragon said, his grin suddenly gone and replaced by a scowl. "The boy's been chasing after our Little Orchid for years and finally he manages to match her in Music and then Dance, and that last one was a cheat!" the old man continued with clear disapproval. "Doesn't know when to give up or shut up, the idiot. Even had the gall to promise her last year, before the entire village, that he'd win her hand one day! What arrogance!" Little Dragon added with a huff.

Sea Lotus quietly sighed at her husband's words but blushed at the memory of the aforementioned event, obviously she was remembering that moment with greater relish than her counterpart. A dreamy smile had spread across her lips as the silence stretched. "He's a real handsome young man, that Fox," the old woman finally said. Her husband grunted at her disapprovingly, but did no more than that. "He's one of the few who actually has any real feelings for her," Sea Lotus defended the suitor who was obviously her favorite. "Kind hearted and full of smiles, he really is a match for her..."

"You can't match an over clever animal with our delicate blossom," Little Dragon argued, looking exaggeratedly offended.

Sea Lotus snorted, the first time Snow had ever heard her do so. "She's far from delicate," the old woman shot back. "Our Little Orchid has a good heart, but she's as stubborn as a mule and far too clever for her own good at times!" Snow was not surprised by this particular revelation. "If her husband can't match her in will and mind, she'd walk all over him." For some reason, Snow suddenly remembered in that moment a cantankerous middle-aged woman haranguing her husband at the market. He had seen it days ago and had felt irritated that her husband was so spineless as to let such an ill-tempered woman trample him underfoot with nasty words and a nastier temper.

"Psh!" Little Dragon rebuked with a wave of his hand at his wife's protests, dispelling that image from Snow's mind with the same gesture. "No one would ever be half as clever as our sweet Little Orchid. The man should just accustom himself to wanting to do her biddings!"

Snow stared at Little Dragon and wondered if the man had come under a spell to say such a thing. If marriage customs had been different in this country, he might have understood this, even if he would never agree with it. Snow had noted in town that sometimes husbands married into the family of their wives here more often than his own birth place, but the differences ended there. Women still tended the homes and men still did most of the jobs outside. Certainly Red Orchid was a complete anomaly to him, and he had seen the extent of the village's willingness to accept her eccentricities, but she was also as outside of his norms as the ones set by her own countrymen. Women were more educated in this particular town, he had noticed that too. He had also seen, especially of late, foreign merchant wives from outside the town mingle and haggle over silks while puzzling over sign boards and counting their coins incorrectly as much as he would have normally expected them to. Many of the places these women came from were located in the same country he now resided in, so he was more than a little certain that customs were not so different here. He had begun to glean a better picture of the geographical layout of the town's neighbors from their new customers and had a better idea of the politics and customs that ran the country. The old men in town liked to discuss the state of the country more than Little Dragon liked to gossip. From them, Snow got a clearer picture of how this region was run. None of the things had been truly so different than the land he had come from, though subtle worships concerning gods were older and more sacred here than home. This particular area also held exams that allowed even a peasant to rise into an official position if he was smart enough to pass, which might be the explanation behind how a merchant like Red Orchid's father had come to power despite his lineage.

These similarities didn't surprise him too much, for once upon a time the two nations had been one. The language here was a bit more archaic too, but Snow had no trouble following what was said by the local people and, over time, he had gotten used to the lingo used here. It had helped that he had been taught the ancient tongue when he was young as a part of his education, along with several other languages of the surrounding kingdoms. This too had helped business at the fish stall. To Little Dragon's delight, as well as the astonished relief of some of their foreign visitors, he was able to communicate with many of the newcomers in town in the native tongue they were used to. The festival was bringing in a lot of money and Snow had been using the opportunity to make more coin. However, there was another pressing matter he needed to see to soon if he was to utilize the growing business potential presenting itself at the fish stall.

While these thoughts ran through Snow's mind. Sea Lotus had begun to challenge her husband on whether Little Dragon would truly enjoy it if she started bossing him around. Little Dragon was laughing at this notion with gusto, pointing out that she was quite bossy when she wanted to be anyway. Snow wondered as he watched them, if his parents had ever shared a moment like this.

At first these types of confrontations between the old couple made him uncomfortable. He was so used to seeing the women in his life defer to his father and brother, sometimes to him as well, that Sea Lotus challenging Little Dragon so boldly left him feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Once or twice, when he had first arrived here, Snow had to hold himself back from saying something uninvited when caught off-guarded by such a situation. Slowly though, he noticed that there was history in their exchanges. Like the well-worn groves on the knife hilt he borrowed to cut rope and gut fish, it didn't quite fit him when he closed his fingers around it but it had been there long before he had ever picked up the tool. He began to notice that Little Dragon had more warmth in his eyes even if his voice sharpened at his wife, and that Sea Lotus, despite her defiance, never fell into the sullen silences that sometimes hung around his cousins after they were reprimanded for speaking out of turn. Once, only once, had he ever sensed that from his own mother, but he had never found out why.

Instead, in the little hut, Snow saw that Sea Lotus's words sometimes held surprising humor and candor. It would unexpectedly break through Little Dragon's annoyance and anger, causing the old man to burst out into laughter at the height of his most volatile of emotions. Sometimes the change to the charged atmosphere was so quick that Snow would puzzle over what had happened days after the affair had ended, though he was not always successful. In its own way, once the words were said, the old couple would go about their lives as if no storm had ever brewed within the house. No heavy silence would follow, and subtle changes would occur that Snow often noticed but didn't always catch.

Snow had seen the closeness between peasant couples before, though not always in a good way and rarely ever the kind that was shared between Little Dragon and Sea Lotus. When he had first begun to travel, he had been disturbed at the easy way young farmers would touch their wives under an open sky and before an audience of passers-by. He had seen their lack of shame and had, at times, been shocked by their public displays of both affection and jealousy. For a long time, Snow had attributed the act to be one of the many indicators that showed how poor and uneducated some people were, often times behaving more like children than adults. Over time he had become more accustomed to these behaviors and had stopped taking note of it. Living so close to the old couple, Snow was able to observe all the closeness such a relationship could bring, though it was still a rare product to behold. He had not thought it possible for a man and a woman to share so much. He had never truly seen the possibility of an emotional bond like this, not outside of the friendships between men who could actually share philosophies, adventures, and experiences. Yet, now he wondered if he had simply missed the subtleties in his own parents' relationship, or if such a thing was possible if a woman hid her thoughts and guarded her feelings as vigilantly as his mother had done. He wondered then if Older Brother was so distant with his own wife, the way he had assumed was natural until now.

Inexplicably, Snow suddenly felt saddened by the thought that the beautiful young woman he had once admired and only briefly met in passing would not be able to make his brother laugh the way he had seen Sea Lotus do for Little Dragon countless times. Instead, he remembered the dignified stillness between his brother and his brother's new bride at the wedding party. He had admired her upbringing and manners that evening, thinking how she reflected Older Brother's calm perfectly beneath the soft music and the chatter of invited guests. Surely they would make a good match, he had thought then. Now the memory made him wonder how the two of them faired without the distracting noise of others.

Would Older Brother ever bring her to the peach grove they shared? Would he smile at her like he had done when Snow was a young child in need of affection? In his mind he saw their silence spread like cool frost between them and found himself unable to admire it like he had done years ago in his youth. In his letters, Snow had seen that Older Brother rarely mentioned his wife, and he had never noticed this absence until now. He wondered then if she had made a place for herself in their old castle. If she had changed the layout of the rooms or the servants who served them. He knew that the lack of news concerning a child must weigh heavily with all the members of his family, and in a way, he had excused this as the reason for her name to never grace the pages written to him from home.

Now he wondered what kind of smile his brother wore around his wife and if there was a history between them that could make Older Brother laugh without restraint...

* * *

Snow trekked up the path, relieved by the shade provided by the long slender bamboos lining the path. He followed a thinner trail that veered off to the side, recalling Little Dragon's instructions as to where the villagers usually cut their share. It was necessary that he make this journey. It was already late in the seventh month of the year. They needed to stock up on firewood for the coming winter, and his bedraggled arrival brought up new needs as well. Snow needed footwear, a hat, and a rain jacket for the rainy seasons that would come a few weeks after the Moon festival. He had been lent the somewhat battered remains of some old equivalents, but the sandals on his feet were already falling apart and the jacket he left at the hut didn't look much better. While being on the fishing boat did not require much for his feet, the marketplace was a far less forgiving place. This would be the first trip of many, and his arrival had delayed the necessity long enough.

Red Orchid had given the old couple salves for his hands, and he had used most of it on the new blisters he had acquired from going to town in the borrowed sandals. His parents would be appalled by the relative poverty he lived in, yet the work was interesting and the old couple had been so kind to him that he willingly went about his tasks without complaint.

In many ways, the small hut was warmer, more relaxing than any memories he had of home, and this thought disturbed him whenever he came upon it. All memories except the ones in the peach grove had been filled with small distances. While he had never doubted his mother's love for both him and his brother, she had also been the epitome of how a woman should be: her emotions never overwhelmed her, her movements were always measured and graceful, and her voice never rose in anger or with any great feeling. Sometimes he saw her love swimming murkily in her eyes, but her face was always smooth and blank. His father was a distant but expectant patriarch, silently demanding obedience and cultivating in his sons the desire to impress him by never showing approval unless some great deed had been accomplished. The only one who had ever truly expressed affection to Snow had been his brother. From Older Brother he had experienced kinship and gentleness, teasing and warmth. It was not often but Older Brother gave whatever the other could afford without alerting their father enough to disapprove.

Older Brother would not have disdained this life. No. The promise asked of him had allowed him to see the swift, disappearing yearning his brother had for the kind of life he now lived...

The bamboo next to the path swayed, bringing him back from the past. He had also come here to gather some much needed materials to make more money. He was saving up for paper, ink, and a chance to write home to detail what had happened and to reassure his brother, more than anyone, of his health and well-being. He usually kept in touch when he could and he was anxious to relieve the tension he knew Older Brother must be feeling now in not hearing from him for several months. He was just glad he had the foresight to write before his departure, yet a part of him worried that his continued silence since departing from port would add to the anxiety concerning his safety. Deprived of everything but the clothes on his back when he had drifted to the current town, he was in no position to write or send letters home when the old couple struggled so hard to feed him.

Little Dragon and Sea Lotus never even thought to complain for the added burden he imposed on them, and the two seemed genuinely happy with coming to his aid. This did not mean he shared the sentiment. They had saved his life and usually that meant some reward was necessary. Even though he was a second son, he was the second son of a very wealthy family, and an old lineage at that.

A part of him wanted to make sure that Little Dragon and Sea Lotus had enough to never have to work another day in their lives. Another part knew that he needed to make some money himself before he could see to it personally. His pride, on top of that, felt that it would be wrong if he simply asked his brother to reward them, as this was his debt and not Older Brother's. For another to pay this in his place would be dishonorable.

Perhaps he may need to stay longer than a year, Snow thought wryly to himself as he arrived at the fork in the road the old man had told him about. He went left as he had been instructed. The path flattened and curved around the rising base of the mountain. He walked a good while before turning into the forest, heading down hill instead of up. It took some time but he finally found a good spot. From there he began to select the healthiest of stalks, determining what their use would be and the size necessary for its future purpose before cutting the ones that would be best fit for the task.

He worked methodically, picking out several for side-projects he knew would bring him extra copper and silver that wouldn't involve the selling of fish. It was a good thing the old man was getting him used to haggling with customers, an activity he had always been excluded from for being beneath him. However, to his surprise, he managed to find some enjoyment from it now that he was improving. He had a ruthless and aggressive streak beneath his silence that he had been unable to indulge in recently through the usual fighting he did in the past, and bargaining was turning out to be a good, albeit temporary, outlet.

His body was recovering nicely, and the poverty he found himself dealing with meant that his time was mostly spent trying to get enough money to help put food on the table. The old man was shrewd and insightful with buying and selling and their profits have certainly improved from what Sea Lotus told him, but he was certainly in no position to ask for a wage from them. While Snow had noted the blatant use of his "pretty face", as Little Dragon liked to put it, to earn them more coins to accommodate his stay, it was not nearly enough for him to begin thinking that he could provide enough for Little Dragon and Sea Lotus to get out of the poverty they lived in after he was gone.

Lately, even he had noticed the steady increase in female customers around the stall. Sea Lotus had been quite vocal in her surprise at how much more money they'd been making and Little Dragon had cackled that strange, excited laugh of his. There had been too much glee in those knowing eyes when Little Dragon watched Snow blankly stare back on hearing this observation as well.

As time passed, he reluctantly understood the necessity of Red Orchid's insistence against bargaining down concerning the old couple's situation. However, it grated on his nerves to depend on such a blatant show of charity. He had never thought about it until now, but he was only beginning to realize how the poor may come to resent the very kindness that those more privileged than they may be moved to bestow aid upon them. It was almost humbling to see how graciously Little Dragon and Sea Lotus received Red Orchid's gifts of medicine, not just for Snow's hands but also for Sea Lotus' cough and the ache in Little Dragon's lower back.

Snow, however, was determined to get started on his other projects so he could put better food on the table and finally send off that much needed letter home. In a way, he was also looking forward to telling Older Brother about his current adventures and he knew the elder would want to hear of the things he had learned. Speaking of Older Brother, Snow thought as he ran his hand down an especially promising young stalk of deep green. This one will do, Snow observed with a small smile.

The occasional breeze from higher up the mountain flowed down like a cool brush of relief then, swaying the tall shoot in his hand and rustling the pale-green leaves overhead. It smelled of summer, without the tang of unwashed human bodies. The cool, calming sound of the breeze eased the tension of having to deal with too many people. Even the song of cicadas buzzing seemed farther away, as if they chorused closer to town for a larger audience than the forest provided. This part of the woods was quieter, though the occasional bird song or flapping of wings and the rustling of bushes informed him of the presence of unseen wild-life. For a little while, Snow pretended he was the only man in the world, and peace washed over him the way the wind washed over the mountain.

This must be how Older Brother often felt in the peach grove, Snow thought to himself as he methodically hacked at the base of the bamboo.

Still, it was strenuous work and sweat soaked his shirt as he swung the old stone hatchet back and forth. He had spent the last few days sharpening the worn edge until it was useable for this excursion, but sometimes he missed being able to buy metal tools, even if it was made out of a less durable bronze. His hands stung from gripping the worn handle, whose groves were set in by smaller hands than his. He was certain, as the day progressed, that he would be in need of the cool ointments again tonight for both his hands and feet.

The sky began to darken overhead before he was satisfied. The brilliant green of the bamboo forest around him seemed to shimmer then dim as another breeze passed through. The forest wavered as if it were no more than tall grasses, making him feel like a green cricket as their songs slowly started, greeting the oncoming evening.

Snow shivered in his sweat-soaked clothes now that air was beginning to cool more quickly. The temperature was dropping faster in the mountain. The sun's reach was eclipsed by the mountain's growing shadow and the shade cast by the bamboo around him. It was time to return before it became too dark to navigate safely, Snow thought as he began to pack up his gear.

The sharp tang of bamboo clung to him and he bound the sectioned shoots with the rope Little Dragon had given him. He then bound all the pieces to the frame he had brought to carry the contents back and checked again to make sure that the bundle was secured. When he was done, he hefted everything onto his back and begun the long trek back into town. A sound made him pause as he neared the path he had left earlier. His eyes immediately saw the flash of white, since it was so unnatural against the dark green of the bamboo forest. One could not help but follow the trailing brightness as it passed.

A tinkling laugh floated after the swift figure, startling birds into the skies overhead. He saw, through the swaying stalks, red hair in striking contrast against white and green, this time more green than white. The shouts of servants following broke him out of his trance, imploring the young woman to be careful as they too passed. The foot-falls that stumbled through the path were heavier and less sure-footed than the one who had gone before. The rougher spun clothing of the running men was soaked with sweat as they lumbered after their charge with gasping breaths and wispy cries.

Afterwards, when he was sure that Red Orchid and her entourage had passed, their voices fading down the trail, did Snow move to step out onto the same trail. The sour stink of exertion hit him immediately as it lingered over the empty path and he wrinkled his nose in distaste at the smell. Yet, beneath the unwelcoming scent of sweaty men and the contrasting crispness of the bamboo forest, he detected the faint sweetness of ripened peaches. It dissipated quickly before he could be fully sure. He did not linger, for the shadows of the oncoming evening warned him to move down the mountain as quickly as he could.

The further he descended, the quicker the darkness came, forcing him to slow down and pick his way more carefully as he left the mountain and the forest behind. He felt his sense of smell sharpen and his vision began to dull as the night encroached. There was only the heavy fragrance of the summer heat and the growing aroma of food as he neared the lights of the town. A thought from earlier would not leave him even as the lit lanterns of the village allowed him to move faster towards the hut and the old couple waiting.

He had a suspicious inkling then, as the warm lantern lights bathed his face, he had finally solved the puzzle of why a fisherman was asked if the other sold fruit.

* * *

**to be continued...**

* * *

Untouched Snow = Sasuke

Red Orchid = Sakura

Fox = Naruto


	4. Chapter 3: The Orphanage

**Book I The Seaside Song**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**_The Orphanage_**

* * *

The sun had just begun to leave its seabed but the morning was already bright.

Its growing light made the ocean seem like liquid gold in the distance, nearest the horizon. The usually white waves were colored a pale purple. They surged against the beach like handfuls of wet lavender, pushing and pulling with unseen force. Whenever the waves retreated, patches of wet sand reflected the sky like burnished copper.

Already a few dark figures could be seen, dotting the beach and working to drag small fishing boats through the sand and into the salty waters. It was still very early in the morning, but the brightness of late summer days greeted the fishermen who arose to head out to sea. A few neighbors waved at Little Dragon and Untouched Snow farther down the stretch of sand when they joined the men working their way toward the sea, kicking aside patches of rotting seaweed as they worked their boats towards the sea. Shouts of greetings were exchanged in the quiet morning as people went cheerfully about their morning routines.

Snow noted a few more women near the beaches today than the previous week. He recognized a few of the older ones, clutching at fishing nets and spears to see their husbands and sons off. Several of the younger women were strangers. They dotted the beach and lingered a little farther away. A few of the bolder ones unabashedly stared at him with admiring gazes while trying to catch his eye.

Snow turned his face away from the land before the young women could do more than stare. The cold, pale waves brushed his ankles as Little Dragon and he drove their boat into the sea. The little fishing boat, rocked by the waves, began to shift beneath Snow's dark hands, providing him with a necessary distraction from the uninvited audience on the beach. As they got further out to sea, he put on his new hat and finally began to relax his tensed shoulders. In the calm, he came to the realization that Little Dragon had not teased him for what had happened on the beach. When he turned, he saw a slightly pained expression on Little Dragon's face that explained the other's reticence earlier.

The old man absent-mindedly rubbed at his bent lower back before scratching at his white, bearded chin. Snow mused that the other must be in a lot more pain than he was showing to not have teased Snow about the unmistakable increase in female population on the beach they had just left behind. The fact some of the women were staring longer and more intently at him than before would have usually ensured a few comments, at least.

"Hm," Little Dragon muttered instead, eyes on the warm, yellowed horizon. Snow studied his companion silently knowing whatever words he said in concern about Little Dragon's back would be dismissed with a wave and a smile. "A storm's coming," the old man muttered after a silent moment of contemplation, nose raised slightly as if to scent the air. "Going to have to go pay some respects to the old Sea Emperor when we get back," Little Dragon muttered to himself.

Snow breathed deeply and quietly, one part of him wanted to go rigid with the memory of the last storm he was involved with and the other part wanted to know how Little Dragon came to this conclusion. He tried not to make his actions seem too obvious as he sniffed the air as discreetly as possible, but he needn't have worried. Little Dragon, distracted by pain and his own thoughts, didn't notice. Snow also didn't sense anything from following what he thought Little Dragon had been doing. He followed the old man's eyes to the clear horizon and squinted, trying to understand what gave the other such a clue when smelling the air hadn't revealed anything out of the ordinary to him. Silence came over them and Snow felt his eyes begin to water. His disbelief was beginning to show and his earlier unease was also beginning to ebb.

There were wispy clouds in the sky overhead. They seemed as ephemeral as a few careless brush strokes running out of ink. None of it looked likely to linger past noon. The air smelled of the salty sea, seemingly no different than usual. The days before had been incredibly hot, but from what he had heard from some of the customers, the rainy season was still some weeks away. This weather, while uncomfortable for everyone, was not especially unusual. After all, his country was farther north. Perhaps his reaction to the heat was due to not having acclimated to the weather here yet.

"Today?" Snow finally queried, giving up on figuring it out on his own. He shifted his reluctant gaze back to Little Dragon, unable to arrive at any conclusions to support the old man's observation. Snow wasn't sure what signs had given the elder such an impression but whatever they were he couldn't detect them without guidance.

Little Dragon grunted and rubbed his chin again, coming out of his thoughts. "Perhaps," the other finally answered sagely.

Snow fought the sudden urge to frown. Was Little Dragon pretending to be some old, wise fisherman again? He wondered, slightly irked. Lately, the other had taken to playing a game with Snow at the oddest times. While Snow did not understand all the rules to this game, most of the time it consisted of Little Dragon acting like an extremely experienced and knowledgeable old man, stroking that wispy beard with special emphasis, and mumbling nonsense concerning things that Snow had the least experience with. It always sounded like Little Dragon was imparting some great, almost supernatural, advice that years at sea or the marketplace had imparted to the other. At first Snow fell for it time and time again, sometimes with embarrassing results that would leave the old man laughing in tears. However, the younger was becoming more and more skeptical lately, especially when Little Dragon began to adopt that serious face while patting his white beard.

Snow gave the old man a deadpan look. Little Dragon glanced back at him with a glimmer in those sly eyes that made Snow want to warn the old man off with a glare. "So what's with the bamboo you've been stowing away?" the old man asked casually, changing the topic with a wide grin that wrinkled up his face. The look was far from innocent.

Snow mulled over this change in tactics. When Little Dragon said no more and patiently waited for his reply, Snow had to mentally shrug away his previous unease. Little Dragon would undoubtedly revisit their earlier line of conversation later on. He had an inkling the joke wasn't quite over yet and he was still at the butt of it. He also had a question concerning this business with bamboo anyway.

"I've been thinking of making some carvings with it," Snow answered after a pause. "I need the money to buy some ink and paper," he added deciding to reveal the cheapest of the needs that he could not yet afford. "To write home with," Snow admitted reluctantly.

"You know enough to write a letter, eh?" Little Dragon hummed a bit in thought, looking surprised. "Guess you might be a little lord after all!" The old man said with a laugh before sobering and studying Snow's blank face. "Well, I guess we don't have any such things lying around the house. Though we got some ink for book-keeping"

* * *

Snow nodded at the other's words. He couldn't write home on bamboo stalks and he was reluctant to use the old couple's ink when it was obvious they needed it for book-keeping. The letter needed to be written on paper otherwise it may not reach Older Brother, who was a real lord. "Well, I guess the orphanage might have something." Little Dragon finally said thoughtfully, surprising Snow.

"The orphanage?" Snow asked. He had not seen any temples outside of the few small shrines set up for the Sea Emperor and the Earth Man. There was an altar for the Moon Maiden, but that was only ever decorated for the Moon festival. For the remainder of the year, the altar was quite bare. It was rare for such an establishment to be made outside of temples though.

"Well, it's run mostly by a young woman named Sparrow," Little Dragon explained. "Red Orchid's mother is really the one who opened it. Little Orchid helps out there often, she gives out medicine to everyone in town who needs it and asks only that they help out the orphanage when they can." Little Dragon grinned at Snow, watching the young man's eyebrows seeming to disappear behind his hair with the surprise growing on his face. The expression didn't last, much to the old man's disappointment.

"Is that what you meant by special deliveries when she left you the medicine earlier?" Snow asked, suddenly recalling the strange words uttered by the old fisherman a week ago.

"Well, Little Orchid doesn't lack for fish to eat nearly as much as those growing brats," Little Dragon said with a hearty laugh, slapping his thigh again. Then, that look again. The sadness crossed over the old man's face and was gone just as quickly. "I haven't gone in a while," the old man admitted. "However, if you go there, you might be able to get some ink and paper to write home!" The old man pointed out knowingly.

Snow raised only one brow in inquiry this time. Why would an orphanage have such things? How could it afford to give them away to someone who could not pay for it? "Does Sparrow know how to write?" he asked instead.

"Oh, she does," Little Dragon answered. "All the brats there learn it. They're a bunch of smart-asses, if you ask me. Every time I go they all go out of their way to show off how many more words they can read than an old fisherman like me. Pah! I put food on their table while they go around putting on airs! Ungrateful brats, the lot of them!" The old man huffed.

Snow managed to school his features this time so that his surprise wasn't as obvious as the first time around. "They all know how to write?" he echoed, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

"And count!" Little Dragon added, sounding suddenly proud instead of irritated. "Sparrow taught Little Treasure too," the old man added. "Helped us a lot once my girl finally mastered it."

"This Sparrow," Snow started carefully, "is she a lady of status as well?"

Little Dragon blinked at Snow in shock before the other finally snorted. "A lady of status?" Little Dragon chortled a good long while before finally stopping when Snow gave up pretending not to be annoyed by this. "A lady of status! Ha! Far from it!" The old man said. "She's just a girl who ran away from home," Little Dragon answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Might have been romantic if there was a boy involved, but nothing of the sort in her story! But she is a good girl, in the end." The last part of Little Dragon's words were spoken with kindness, and unexpected pity.

"So how did she learn to read, write, and count well enough to teach others?" Snow asked.

Little Dragon looked at him and opened his mouth to answer. Then the old man paused and scratched his chin. "Huh, I never thought of it that way," Little Dragon admitted. Then, with a shrug, sly brown eyes met his. "Probably Red Orchid taught the wench," the old man suggested. "She has a soft spot for drifters and run-aways." Little Dragon gave him a toothy grin as the other stroked his white, wispy beard. "Surprised?" Little Dragon asked, sardonic and sly.

Snow kept his thoughts to himself, but that just made the old man chuckle all the more knowingly.

* * *

The storm followed them to the shore in the late afternoon, but they had fortunately just finished securing the boat on the beach before the clouds swept passed overhead. Cool, fat drops of rain soon came down upon them as the only precursor before curtains of water dropped onto the fishermen still loitering out on the beach, the ones who were smart enough to have returned early. Sea Lotus waited for them with hot rice porridge and fish, as well as the only two towels in the house, when they finally managed to clamber back into the hut. The two men dripped water all over the dirt floor, wringing their long hair of the cold water by the door before entering. The old woman sighed as she glanced at their wet tracks with a weary look but said nothing as she handed them the towels and then led both men to the hot food she had prepared for them.

"Told you a storm were coming," Little Dragon pointed out triumphantly as he slurped down his porridge with more care than Snow was used to seeing. The younger man peered at the other through spiked, wet lashes, remaining silent as he was still too wet and too cold to form a polite response. Snow draped his towel over his dark, wet hair to soak up the rest of the moisture before picking up his portion of the food.

The rain continued through the night. The two men rose early the next day and found themselves looking out into a gray darkness. Since they could not head out to sea, much of the morning was spent emptying out pails filled with rain water that had managed to find all the cracks in the roof. Sea Lotus bustled about in the house, cleaning up after their morning meal while Little Dragon and Snow grimly remained with nothing else better to do but stare out at the unwelcoming day. By the looks of it, nothing had changed during breakfast.

"Guess there will be no fishing today, eh?" Little Dragon finally said with resignation by late morning. The old man closed the door with a sigh. It was not fast enough and a cool, wet wind blew through the house before the door could be fully shut. Everyone shivered as it passed by them and the fire wavered in its pit in response, threatening to go out due to the sudden draft. "Sorry, sorry," Little Dragon apologized placatingly as Sea Lotus shot her husband a glare. The drip, drip sound permeated the hut from both inside and out after a silence fell over the occupants. Snow went back to emptying some of the fuller pails while Little Dragon made the decision that he would check to see what of their fishing equipment needed mending.

"It's not often that the storms start this early," Sea Lotus explained to Snow with a worried frown. She peered out at the rain after one of Snow's trips with another full bucket while she dried her hands on one of the still damp towels. "The Sea Emperor must be quite displeased with something to start the rain season so early."

"Or he's excited about something, one never knows with the gods." Little Dragon supplied and then grunted, pausing in his work to wave his knife in agitation at his wife's mention of the Sea Lord. "If he weren't so temperamental, I'd be out there leaving an offering to him right now." The old man sighed to himself before resuming his earlier inspection for the netting he had picked up. "Whatever offenses his lordship's found, we best wait this out and double our offerings when it's over so he wouldn't get more offended, eh?"

Snow, quiet up to now, felt equally annoyed by the talk of the weather and how it willingly lingered. The storm made him feel nervous and restless. The sound of the wind and rain made him think back to the not so distant night when he had almost drowned. He frowned as he suppressed the need to pace again. "What is it, boy? You look like you've got nettles in your pants!" Little Dragon roared at him a little while later when he began to walk in circles within the small premise of the house, abandoning the unfinished rope he had begun to braid for the third time since morning.

The night before had been just as restless, though he had better control of himself then. He was tired from being repeatedly woken from dreams of sinking and being thrown overboard, only to wake disoriented and unsure if he was still floating on debris. Now, with the sound of thunder and the flashing of lightning rolling in from the sea, he felt his nerves stretching out to their limits, preparing to snap. The proximity to the increasing roar of the ocean became a growing, sickening pressure on his senses, and the sound of the waves made him feel antsy and jittery, if not a bit unsteady on his own feet.

Sea Lotus shot her husband a disapproving look, and turned to Snow with a far more understanding stare. She looked like she wanted to say something but then her eyes moved to the corner of the room and her expression changed. The old woman stood and walked over to the shadowy corner, coming back to the distracted Snow with arms full of his new bamboo coat and hat. "There's a delivery I would like you to make," Sea Lotus said with a soft, kind smile. She came back again, after he took the rain jacket and hat from her hands, this time carrying an off-white bundle. Snow had seen her earlier, wrapping the salted fish she had made two nights ago, into the cloth. "The orphanage is just a bit outside of town," Sea Lotus explained. "I was going to ask Little Dragon to go today, but he can't get that far with his back, not in this weather," she explained while her husband grunted at them with indignation. Little Dragon had been growing more cantankerous as the weather worsened Snow had just been too shaken to fully take notice. The old man's back, while being able to predict storms, was turning into more and more of a curse as the storm lasted.

"Red Orchid might also be stuck there if she had gone to visit yesterday," Sea Lotus told him quietly. He heard her silent plea though, for the old woman had been looking at her husband with worried eyes since morning. He kept forgetting that the strange head-man's daughter was also the town's doctor. He had noted that, for the first time, Sea Lotus had given Little Dragon the most generous portions of food during dinner and breakfast. Yet both times the old man barely managed to finish half of his share, something quite out of the ordinary for the old coot who had as much appetite for food as he did for gossip.

From the way she described the directions to him, Snow realized early on that it was also a way for him to get further away from the ocean. It would not be a pleasant walk, but Sea Lotus had seen that keeping him indoors was not much of a better option. Grateful for her insight, Snow departed into the storm with the package tucked safely away under his rain jacket. The pelting rain soaked his feet and calves and any part of him that wasn't protected by the long bamboo jacket. His face became a victim as well, assaulted every once in a while by fat drops of water that was pushed past the brim of his hat by the heavy handed wind.

The sound of the ocean soon began to fade. It was far enough, Snow realized, that he felt his body begin to relax slightly, despite the increasing flashes of lightning and thunder overhead as he walked on. His shoulder were no longer hunched by the time he saw the rooftop of a one-storied house over the walls that encircled it. Mud splattered his lower half when he reached the gates of the orphanage that matched Sea Lotus's description. He was also feeling much better than he had since morning. Snow raised his hand and pulled on cord attached to a clanging bell, waiting patiently as he heard scrambling feet behind the walled off enclosure. A young child looked through one of the lower slates in the gate's door, peering up at him inquisitively when it opened. "Who are you?" the child asked. Snow stared down at the pair of eyes studying him through the slate, wondering why a child was answering the door.

"Ya want something?" another voice asked, and another boy opened another slate higher up in the door. This one wore a more hostile look on his little face.

"Maybe he's a tax collector!" An unseen speaker supplied speculatively from the other side.

"Maybe he's one of those obnoxious suitors," someone else piped in.

"Maybe he's a mud monster!" the youngest child he had seen yet, pushed the boy on the lower slate away and looked to him with excitement. Her exclamation was quite cheerful for a girl naming him after a monster. "We can have a mud party now!" she exclaimed joyfully.

The rain and wind blew against his back and he saw the children at the door shiver in unison. "Don't open the door for the mud man!" the angry-kid ordered, quickly picking up this new description, as it was surely insulting to the adult standing outside.

"Everyone, that's not very nice!" a gentle voice suddenly came over the den of debating children. The slates were all shut then but he could almost hear the guilty silence on the other side of the door. Then the gate was finally opened and he saw a young woman, who was not Red Orchid, standing under the eaves with a pretty girl child standing quietly next to her. This was probably the young Sparrow that Little Dragon had told him about. Children in rain-hats and varying stages of muddiness stood between the gate's door and the young woman, though some clustered shyly around her. "I'm sorry," the young woman apologized after inviting him in. She had dark-hair and when she finally looked up at him, he noticed that her eyes were pale. The slight stutter to her speech gave away her obvious nervousness, and that same uncertainty was matched by the hesitance in her steps. Snow looked back at her as she glanced over to him, her gaze not quite meeting his own. Despite the miserable wet-chill demanding his attention and the weak fire-light of the single lamp by the gateway dimming his vision, Snow realized suddenly then that Sparrow was blind.

* * *

That explained the pity in Little Dragon's voice when the other spoke of this girl...

A thousand questions concerning what he knew of her popped into his mind then, first, and foremost, was how she could teach anyone to read, much less write, if she could not see. But Snow kept those questions to himself, knowing now was not the time to bring such things up. "My name is Untouched Snow," he said instead, realizing that his reticence at discovering her condition would come off as more unnerving for one who could not see him. "I was sent here by Little Dragon and Sea Lotus, the old couple down by the beach. They wanted me to bring you some salted fish." He explained as he stepped through the gateway and then allowed one of the children to close it and latch it behind him.

"My name is Sparrow. I am the caretaker for these children," the young woman stuttered through her own introduction, confirming his earlier deduction concerning her identity. After wards, Sparrow instructed the children to take him to the receiving room and then disappeared into one of the many doorways in front of him. The angry boy, now in full view, led him grumpily forward sometimes casting a glare over his shoulder to make sure Snow was following as the other children followed closely behind them. Once the door into the orphanage was closed, everyone ceased shivering from the wet chill as they ran inside, some lingering behind to wait for Sparrow to appear again.

"Fish?" Sparrow asked shyly once she came in from another room. Snow affirmed her question when he realized she would not be able to see his nod.

"Fish," the angry boy complained with a snort. The child made a disgusted face. "I don't like fish!" he declared challengingly at Snow. Snow could clearly see that what the other was really saying was that Snow was not liked, but he let that slide as he could not figure out the source for such hostility. Not now, at least.

"You don't like anything," the little girl who had called him a mud-monster earlier accused the angry boy in return. She then looked up with a friendly grin at him as he stood on the threshold of the room, dripping mud and water onto the stone floors at the entry way. "You have a pretty name, Untouched Snow!" she declared boldly.

Sparrow smiled a little at the chorus of voices that suddenly went up again around them, each giving an opinion on Snow and some giving opinions on each other. "Children," Sparrow reminded them softly, quieting the din of noise after a few attempts. "We have a guest. What has Red Orchid taught you all about greeting guests?"

The angry-boy looked sullenly down at the mention of this reminder and ducked his head with a reluctant pout on his lips. The mud-monster girl was, however, enthusiastic in her reply. "We love guests!" she shouted.

Sparrow laughed a quiet, nervous laugh. "Not quite," she said with a gentle shake of her head at the excited child.

"We should always act respectfully," the angry-boy finally muttered, looking annoyed at the mud-monster girl as if she committed a great offense by getting the answer wrong. Sparrow stood expectantly quiet. Everyone who had been hostile to him when he arrived all looked away from Snow now with varying degrees of guilt.

"Well?" Sparrow prodded them in the silence.

Several grumbles were heard before Snow was bombarded by numerous greetings and introductions. He doubted he would remember even one name in the confusing chatter. Once that was over with, almost everyone slunk off before more could be asked of them. The only ones remaining was the tiny mud-monster girl, the older girl he had seen earlier standing beside Sparrow, and the angry-boy. The boy refused to budge from his spot in the hall, keeping a fierce glare on Snow as if he couldn't be trusted to be left alone with the women.

"Sorry about that." Sparrow apologized once the sound of running children was sufficiently quieted. She took a few measured steps and stopped, standing closer now to him than she had before. When Sparrow stopped, the older girl followed and took the blind woman's hand in her own. Then, without another word, the child led Sparrow the last few steps to stand in front of Snow. "Thank you... for coming to bring food for us." Sparrow said with an even more pronounced stutter and a bashful smile. Sparrow then set a gentle hand on the older girl's shoulder in quiet thanks as the other stood next to her, but Snow noticed immediately the slight tremble in Sparrow's limbs.

Sparrow took a shaky breath, and then she reached out unseeingly with both her hands. Snow realized then what she meant to do and took out the white bundle from beneath his jacket before placing it into her hands. "It has been awhile-" Sparrow informed him, trailing off at the last moment as she blushed even more deeply and cut herself off. Snow assumed that she had started to talk about the last time Sea Lotus and Little Dragon had visited this orphanage, in her strange, halting way.

Snow nodded again and realized right away that she would not see his response any more clearly than the first time he did this. "Right," he agreed out loud. He looked around awkwardly before coming to the decision to take off his rain gear before venturing further into the house. He would be dripping water and mud everywhere he walked if he kept either on, after all. "Is there a place I can put my jacket and hat?" he asked his hostess.

Sparrow gave him another shy smile before she and her quiet guide showed him where he could lay down his outer wear. As he took off his jacket, Snow shuddered a little at the chill that lingered in his stiff limbs. The young girl by Sparrow stilled and a small gasp escaped from her parted lips. The little girl who followed them also stared up at him, unable to look away. Even the angry boy, upon seeing Snow's face, dropped his jaw for a moment in surprise before sharply turning away with a flustered look on his face. Snow was no longer obscured by the shadows cast by his hat or hindered by the rain jacket as he set both down on the long table Sparrow had indicated. His hostess, in the end, was the only one not to react to him shedding his outerwear. The warmth of the fire in the room he was shown made his tanned skin golden and his eyes liquid dark. His black hair gleamed wetly where it was drenched by rain, and was touched as well by the light of the fire with warm highlights. Hulling fishes with the old man had helped put some muscle back into Snow's arms and back, and his simple, rough spun vest and muddied pants that clung to his calves did nothing to hide his well-cut physique.

"You're not a mud-monster," the little girl next to him whispered, adoringly staring up at Snow as if in a trance.

"You're a Prince," the older girl next to Sparrow breathed out. She reddened at her own words as soon as she spoke, for everyone had heard her clearly in the silent room.

* * *

Sparrow requested Snow to follow her deeper into the house once he rolled up his pants to prevent less of a mess as he trekked through the one-story building. He noticed that his hostess had turned away with surprising grace, and wondered what else the blind young women had been taught by Red Orchid. If Little Dragon had not told him otherwise, he would have easily assumed she was born from a house of good standing, one that valued tradition and the proper amount of education. He could see it in the way she walked and held herself, which confused him, for this was not something easily taught. If she had not been so jittery around him, he wondered if the grace would have been more pronounced as well.

Snow trailed after her silently. He was never good with small talk and Sparrow seemed to also lack the skill. Yet, staying quiet in a blind woman's presence seemed rude as they walked deeper into the house and none of the children had spoken after the older girl's comment. While all three children would surreptitiously look over to Snow with varying degrees of awe, Snow had seen the angry-boy's mouth become more grim and thin with displeasure as the silence stretched. "Little Dragon wanted to come. But, his back is not good in this storm." Snow finally spoke into the uncomfortable quiet, ignoring the glare the angry-boy shot at him.

Sparrow paused in front of him and everyone stopped as she looked back at Snow with a frown at this news. "I see," she finally said before resuming her walk. They arrived in the kitchen after some moments and Sparrow gingerly placed the fishes on one of the tables. "Thank you for coming," Sparrow said, her stutter returning when she had put away the food offerings. "Red Orchid had left some medicine in the storage. I need assistance in getting the one you wish for. It will help," Sparrow informed him. Her voice faltered a few times as she began to look increasingly uncomfortable for having to say so much, but Snow patiently waited for her to finish.

The quiet girl blushed as Snow caught her staring at him again. She looked away before she led Sparrow and him to where the storage room was located. The room was surprisingly full of things Snow never thought to find in an orphanage, especially one not located inside a well-funded temple. A few expertly crafted trunks made of sturdy bamboo sat in the corner of the room. Another shelf held jars with all kinds of ointments or dried herbs. Scrolls lined yet another. And on the wall farthest from the door, Snow saw a few books made of what looked to be good quality paper. Sparrow instructed Snow on what he was looking for on the shelf of jars, but when he was done, he could not help but cast his eyes around the room once more. The lantern in his hand illuminated the dark corners as he studied his surroundings, always a little surprised at what else he saw stashed there.

"Do you need something else?" Sparrow asked haltingly, sensing his hesitance to leave.

Snow felt the awkwardness of asking for charity stop his tongue. He had never imagined that he would ever consider requesting paper and ink from an orphanage. It felt wrong to him that he would need to request such things from a place he should be giving charity to instead. Yet, despite his pride, he suddenly thought about Older Brother, sitting alone in the peach orchard and thinking that he was dead. The sadness that came from such a thought was enough to make him grit his teeth. No, his pride was not worth that, Snow silently reasoned. He would repay this debt as well, in time.

"I need some ink and paper. I have not yet been able to afford to buy any," he told Sparrow and was glad she could not see the pained expression on his face for having to admit such a thing out loud. The angry-boy relaxed a little and looked a bit smug at this information. Snow looked away from his audience, but all thoughts of pride left him when his eyes landed on the tools sitting innocently in one corner of the storage room. Instrument making tools of good quality. He nearly did not hear Sparrow's assent that he could take whatever it was he needed. "Do you make instruments here?" he asked as he walked over and picked up a heavy knife, made of iron and not bronze. It was set high enough so that any young child who wondered in would not be able to reach it, but it was placed at eye-level with someone of his stature.

"Yes," she answered after a pause of hesitation. Then, quietly, as if she was forcing herself to say more, Sparrow explained that Red Orchid would sometimes bring her suitors, the ones who were good with both children and music or others who were talented with bamboo and wood crafting, to come and show the older kids how to make instruments and how to use them. "In the winter, when the children cannot go out as much, she would come to instruct them on how to play." Sparrow added. The woman's stuttering lessened as the conversation continued. The topic at hand was putting her at ease. It was obviously something she was proud of. A blush suddenly rose across Sparrow's pale cheeks again and she ducked her head, as if struck by a thought. She said no more, choosing not to share it, and Snow did not ask her to.

A few inquisitive heads suddenly came into sight, lining the doorway as some of the bolder children looked in on him as he studied the tools. One of the older girls giggled and whispered loudly to her friend, "He really is beautiful!"

He ignored them, studying the blade he had found. The knife would help him go a long way. "Can I borrow some of these tools for making a flute as well?" he asked, picking up another tool that was used to drill holes into bamboo. "I can provide the bamboo and teach flute-making to anyone interested, in repayment," he added.

Sparrow smiled at him. "Yes, thank you," she said. He felt there was more to it, but her consent was what he needed so he did not push her.

"We already know how to!" the angry boy piped in when he saw that Sparrow would not object.

Snow glanced over at the doorway now. It explained why Sparrow hesitated, though she had not refused. He had planned the lesson on flute-making to be only a part of his repayment. The memory of learning the craft from his brother made him smile at the scowling boy, but the other flushed at this and looked away. The angry boy's face seemed to get angrier while some of the bolder girls looking in sighed loudly at Snow's smile.

"I will leave the repayment up to you, then," Snow said steadily, addressing Sparrow.

Sparrow looked embarrassed at the boy's rudeness and the girls' boldness. "I think it wouldn't hurt to see how someone else does it," she said gently, her words meant more for the angry boy than for him. It was, however, some of the girls who reacted positively to this announcement.

The angry boy opened his mouth to say something else, but one of the older girls saw this and took him by the ear, dragging the reluctant, vocal boy away. Snow watched the two leave and made a mental note to come in the winter to teach the ones who were interested on how to play the flute instead. He had planned to use his skills in some way, and if they had the skill to make the instrument already, he could still teach them the skill of how to use the flute well. If nothing else, his travels ensured that he would at least be able to impart some songs that they had never heard of before. Eventually, when he had the silver, he also planned to donate some money in thanks to this place for helping him now, when he had nothing. While the orphanage had many things in its storage, it did not seem like any of the gifts were willingly being sold for money. Whoever was donating it, most likely Red Orchid and her father were amongst the most generous, the gifts were treated with great honor and used only when necessary. However, selling anything off did not seem to be on the agenda, despite its practicalities.

By Sparrow's plain and simple dress, it was obvious that luxury was not a part of their lives, though the children were certainly taken care of and lived comfortably. The clothing he had seen the children wearing were good and sturdy, the cut and design were simple. The material used was durable but not extravagant. It was still an orphanage and he was still taking charity from people who generally needed it more than he did.

It galled him but he promised himself to repay them for all of this later.

"Thank you," he said with gratitude in his voice and a bow she could not see. It was the proper way of doing things though. "I will bring back the tools when I am done with them." He gathered the tools, a block of ink stone, and a roll of paper, before leaving the storage. He had not expected that he would be able to get everything he needed so quickly or so easily. It seemed the gods were smiling down on him today.

Sparrow gave him a shy, reserved smile when he stepped back into the better lit hallway. She was rather pretty, now that he had a better look at her. She had a delicateness to her that reminded him of his cousins, and her blindness gave her a vulnerable air. He wondered, as he passed the children, why she remained unmarried and looking after children not her own - the unwanted children, no less. She was a little older than girls of the marriageable age, but she was not particularly unattractive. There was a grace in her movements that spoke of training usually given to the more privileged ilk.

Still, it was not his place to pry. Granted, it seemed strange that a blind woman of her age was taking care of so many children on her own. "Are you the only care-giver here?" he finally asked.

"No," Sparrow answered with a bit of trepidation. "It's... it's just that it's the festival month. Everyone is busy and some of the workers who usually stay here are currently living in town instead to help out. The storm prevented them from coming in today."

That explains it, Snow thought. "The Moon festival then?" he asked. "I have seen the lanterns being sold in the marketplace."

"Really?" Sparrow asked, suddenly seeming to be interested. "Were they selling well?"

Snow raised a brow at her that she could not see. "I guess. There were always customers in those stalls."

Sparrow smiled a delighted smile at Snow. He saw then that she really was pretty, albeit a bit awkward and very shy. "That's good to hear," she said with relief. Her guide was smiling now too. Was there something about lanterns that he didn't know about?

"I heard that Red Orchid challenges her suitors during this festival," he said, remembering Little Dragon and Sea Lotus looking excited about the prospect. Sparrow visibly stiffened next to him and her guide too shot him a curious look. "Do you know who the suitors are for this year?"

Sparrow was quiet for a long moment. "Only some of them," she answered. Her voice was suddenly so quiet that Snow had a hard time hearing her, and he noticed that, for the first time, she did not stutter. He didn't ask her to repeat herself. It was obvious she did not want to talk about this. Unlike his comment about the lanterns, this topic made her close up.

"What kind of contests do they participate in?" Snow asked, steering the conversation away from the identity of the suitors.

"You don't know?" Sparrow's guide asked in surprise.

"No," he answered.

Sparrow gently squeezed the girl's hand, but it was the little girl who still trailed them that answered. "Those men challenges Older Sister in poetry, music, Go and fighting!" the child answered. "They never beat her in all of the categories though! Older Sister is the best!" Their guide sighed at this boast and Sparrow laughed.

"She fights?" Snow asked, shocked.

"I hear she's good with the sword," Sparrow answered but it was her guide's enthusiastic nod that surprised Snow more. "But, the categories for the challenges are literature, art, strategy and dance. It usually comes down to poetry, music, Go and fighting but there have been variations in the past."

"Dance?" Snow murmured questioningly. "How does it become fighting instead?"

"Three years ago, Prince Fox said that fighting is just like a dance," Sparrow replied, a pink flush coming over her face as she spoke.

"Yeah, ever since then all the other suitors have taken advantage of these words and have started to challenge Red Orchid in fighting instead of dancing," Sparrow's guide piped in.

"Everyone gets more excited, but-" Sparrow trailed off and this time a frown of worry marred her smooth features.

"I hate that Fox," the familiar voice of the angry boy interrupted them as he reappeared into the hall and crossed his arms, glaring at Snow. "He put Red Orchid's life in danger for saying what he said. Now she has to fight instead of dance, just because that stupid fox couldn't match her."

"I heard she got bored because all her suitors failed at dancing," the older girl from earlier spoke up. Snow realized that she was the one who had dragged the angry boy away by his ear. "Red Orchid is not that easily manipulated to lose, Star, you should know that," she admonished the boy.

"Well, she lost that first match. And now she loses in dance, more than she used to." The boy answered back hotly. "Every time she loses, she gets hurt."

"She always looks like she's having fun though, nowadays." The guide-girl said pointedly. "And she's losing much less now than three years ago when they changed that challenge. Even Prince Fox has trouble beating her these days, and he was the first to do so in dance."

"It's also super fun to watch!" the mud-monster girl added, throwing her hands up excitedly.

"She's not here just to entertain you!" The angry boy shouted. He scowled at them all and abruptly turned, walking away on his own accord this time.

"I'm sorry about that, Untouched Snow," Sparrow apologized softly. "The festival is a sensitive subject for some of the children." Snow remembered how Sparrow had tensed when he had asked for the identities of the last four suitors, and thought that it was not only the children who were sensitive on this topic.

"Why do they want to marry her so badly?" Snow asked. It had been the one thing he had wanted to know since he had first heard of the contest. Red Orchid was striking, he could not deny that. Yet, if it was just beauty, how was she able to move so many men to seek her hand? Wealth, her father certainly possessed, but it was new and not unlimited. Power, she could not offer, and it was the one thing her father should be seeking above all others. Snow had seen men go after both beauty and wealth, but power had always been the one thing that trumped all else. Without it, how could Red Orchid inspire princes and lords to come for her hand, year after year? At the end, she was still just a merchant's daughter.

In Snow's experience, only the impoverished lords went for women like her. Or fools. Fox apparently was a Prince, by what Snow has gathered, and even if he was a fool his advisors should not be. It would not be impossible to guess that there were others of higher standing than impoverished lords trying to win Red Orchid's hand. However, if her father had allowed this game in the first place, it was obvious that one would not be able to reach the end of this contest without talents. Four different types of talents that neither money nor power could acquire, not for oneself. Even now, as he voiced this question for the first time, he did not think these women before him could give him the answer he sought.

"Men always want what they can't have," Sparrow finally replied in the long silence, her words dropping like pebbles into stagnant waters. Snow watched her bow her head, as if a great weight had descended onto her neck and shoulders, and wondered what she had really meant by those words.

* * *

By the time he returned to the hut, Snow was wetter and dirtier than when he had arrived at the orphanage. It had taken much longer to walk back. It was not yet fully dark out, but the heavy gray clouds made the difference barely noticeable. While the rain had lessened considerably, the muddy ground hindered any progress he might have had otherwise. Having secured his new acquisitions with a cleaner rag then the one he went with, Snow found the entire ordeal tiring yet extremely rewarding. It had been a much better idea to go than to stay. If Sea Lotus had not sent him off on this errand, he would only have paced about the small hut as the one outlet to his feeling of being trapped by the sound of the ocean and the storm. He wouldn't have been able to solve any of his problems then.

Yet, now Snow had his head filled with questions and his arms full of tools. Why had Sparrow been reluctant to talk about the last four suitors who were contesting for Red Orchid's hand this year? Why did she hint that the suitors wanted Red Orchid because they could not have her? How much was what Sparrow said her own opinion and how much was it the truth? If such a contest had been going on for several years now, how did it really fit into the plans of Red Orchid's father, who has shown himself to be a strategic and ambitious man in all else he did and accomplished? Was this an exception or was the motivation well hidden? Snow was inclined to believe the latter before he considered the former.

And why did the men who came here truly want Red Orchid? They obviously wanted her badly enough that the embarrassment of being beaten by a woman in front of a large audience did not deter them. Snow was intrigued alright, by the type of man that was Red Orchid's father. Was this man only the town's leader or something more? The contest for his daughter's hand had certainly helped expand the town and line his pockets. Snow had seen it and it made him wonder where else such a man's ambitions lie. How was Red Orchid made to seem so desirable, despite her father's obvious lack of political power? Snow wanted to see for himself the extent of her talents, though he doubted that it was these factors alone that made men want her. To have been able to stay unmarried for so long though, based on these four categories specifically was a shock. These consisted mostly of the very things that measured the degree of culture and education a man possessed, and it gave him pause that Red Orchid could be unbeaten in all four areas.

She would have made an ideal son, Snow realized just as the hut came into view. He wondered then how things would have been different for this town if Red Orchid had been born a boy. Pausing at the door, Snow looked out into the gray darkness and briefly imagined the kind of man she would have turned out to be if fate had been kinder to her father.

* * *

**to be continued...**

* * *

Untouched Snow = Sasuke

Red Orchid = Sakura

Sparrow = Hinata

Fox = Naruto

The children at the orphanage belong in this tale and no other, though there is one Naruto-verse character in there but I will not name her until later.


	5. Chapter 4: The Moon Festival

**Book I The Seaside Song**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_**The Moon Festival**_

* * *

The Moon was getting fuller each day. Untouched Snow saw this as he stood at the edge of the bamboo forest, looking up at the dazzling night sky. It was a beautiful sight. He breathed in the warm night air. It really was a hot summer, at least for him. Before he could release his breath, Snow's shoulders tensed when he noticed the faint glow of an approaching lantern. He turned and watched a shadowed figure emerge from the forest path behind him. "Good evening," the man holding the lantern greeted him. In the lamp light the man's hair looked gold in some places, in others gray and black.

"Good evening," Snow responded.

The man wore a black, silk scarf over his hair. The material and the shadows from the wavering lantern obscured more than half his face from sight. However, the first thing Snow took note of as the man stepped into the moonlight was the black eye-patch over the man's left eye. The man's right eye swept over Snow in a lazy slide down and then up again to meet his gaze, but Snow saw how sharp the expression in that one eye really was. "Heading into town?" the stranger asked him with a tilted head and an unseen smile, eye crinkling around the corner. Snow nodded, adjusting the load on his back. "Mind if I join you?" the man asked amiably, easily passing Snow to light the path ahead.

"Please," Snow answered politely before following.

"It's not often woodcutters stay out so late," the man in front of him commented as they walked down the side of the mountain together. "Usually they're telling stories by now over drinks at the tavern. Didn't those old hands warn you that it's not safe to stay out so late on your own? Don't you know there are tigers in the forest? I hear they like the taste of young woodcutters, more than anything."

Snow watched the muscles bunch beneath the material of the stranger's jacket as the other walked smooth and sure-footed in front of him. The light of the moon was clear and sweeping, rendering the lantern to be almost an accessory, which was why Snow had stayed out so late. If it weren't for the bright moon tonight, he might have missed how fit the man was beneath his dark clothes, though Snow would certainly have seen that the other had a fighter's body. This was a man who knew combat, Snow was sure of it.

"I'm more of a fisherman than a woodcutter," Snow confessed, wondering if the man was one of the last four to challenge Red Orchid in the upcoming festivities. Somehow, he hadn't imagined the suitors to be real warriors like this one. He could see now why Sparrow and the angry-boy at the orphanage had been so worried.

"I heard cats prefer the taste of fish, more than anything. Don't they?" the man in front of Snow asked innocently in response. The other spoke in the same manner as before, when he had been talking about woodcutters. The stranger looked back at Snow to gauge his reaction.

Snow shrugged under the scrutinizing stare. "There are stories that say tigers like spirits too, but I've never seen a tiger drink." He answered, looking the stranger in the eye. The other's one dark eye looked back, evenly meeting his gaze. It seemed to almost shine silver beneath the bright moon.

"Ho," the man hummed, finally turning forward. Snow could no longer see the man's face and had to judge the other now from his voice. "That's too bad. It's definitely something you wouldn't forget once you've witnessed it." The stranger's tone was soft and serious, without a hint of humor.

Snow raised a brow at this. Was the man hinting that he had seen a tiger drink? He doubted anyone would have ever seen such a sight. Still, the stranger did give the impression that he would try to feed a tiger spirits, if given the chance. "You've seen it? A tiger drinking spirits?" Snow asked in response, knowingly rising to the bait.

The stranger in front of him stopped and Snow stopped too. The other turned to him with the one eye crinkled in that familiar fashion that hinted at a smile. "Tigers like spirits the way house cats like catnip," the man explained, eye smoothing into an intent look. "I was watching one just now, drinking his fill. It was such a sight that I had almost forgotten to head back into town until it became so late, but luckily I had brought a lantern with me to light my way back."

How naive does this man think he was? Snow wondered as he looked back with equal seriousness at the stranger. "Liar," he replied calmly. "You were coming from the head-man's house up the mountain. There are no tigers in the bamboo forest, at least not that way. I also doubt that you'd need a lantern to go back to town. The moon is almost full and you walk like a man who could manage to find your way back in your sleep."

The stranger sighed when Snow was finished. "How naive," the man said. "There was at least one tiger living in the head-man's house. They like to prowl your bamboo forest too, even if you don't know they are there. With the Moon festival coming up-" the man continued with his dark eye glittering from both the moonlight and the glow of the lantern "-there will soon be other carnivorous beasts in town as well. Anyway, the Moon isn't the Sun. You can't prepare for everything when there are so many shadows about."

A warm wind blew down the hill then, breaking the silence between them and swaying the lantern in the stranger's hand.

The man finally tilted his head and crinkled his eye. In a smooth motion, the man turned away from Snow before lifting the lantern up to face level and blowing it out after removing his scarf. Without another word, the stranger straightened his headwear, swung the darkened lantern over one shoulder and resumed walking towards the town without a backwards glance. Snow watched him go for a little while before following. The man had a very sharp gaze and a dangerous aura.

If anything, Snow felt like he had just met one of the carnivorous beasts of the forest, and the beast was heading into town for the Moon festival.

* * *

The second time Untouched Snow heard her voice was on the second night of the Moon festival. He had been dragged to the festival the night before to listen to the contestants this year. Four men stood on the stage with various instruments in their hands, and none of them had been the man Snow had met on the forest path. Each man was different, though not all of them left a remarkable impression. The most striking man had long dark hair that reached the small of his back and eyes so pale that one could almost mistake him for being blind. However, the way they swept over the crowd told Snow that the other saw more clearly than most. There was something about this man that reminded him immediately of Sparrow, and he wondered if the two were related in some way. Another young man, nowhere near as handsome, but striking for the vivid green of his jacket, had jet-black hair and eyebrows so thick that Snow noticed them first, despite being far back from the stage. The third man was unremarkable in appearance in every way, except unlike the others he was slouching and looking like he wished he were anywhere else but on-stage. The last man was bigger than all of his companions, and Snow remembered that the man's name was Bear, the only name he managed to recall as it fit the man's appearance so well.

The first man played a haunting song on an _erhu_ so beautifully that Snow asked Little Dragon what the man's name was after the song was over. "Moon Stone," the old man answered with tears in his eyes. The second man played drums, and while rousing, none of the performances after Moon Stone was especially memorable. "That one's gift is music," Little Dragon said as they were walking home. Sea Lotus hummed Moon Stone's song to herself all morning the next day.

It had been a beautiful song.

The second night, Little Dragon and Sea Lotus didn't have to drag Snow to attend. He willingly went with them, now intrigued more than ever on what talents the other men had. It was, however, Red Orchid's night to reply to the challenge the four men sent her way. He saw her go up to the stage with her eye-catching hair just as brilliant as the first time he had seen it. He still did not have a clear view of her face considering how far he was from the stage - more people had shown up for this night than the night before. He did, however, hear that distinct voice of hers. The crowd was hushed into an unnatural silence but the stage was set up in such a way that it sounded almost as if she was standing next to him. She was holding a beautifully crafted _pipa_, and the pear shaped instrument was held with a delicate grace. Her movements were skilled and perfected. Snow could tell after the first few notes that her song would be beautiful as well, just like her instrument.

However, he had not expected the purity of her voice. Snow did not think anyone could have prepared him for it. He had heard her speak but he had never heard her sing. He had never imagined that there would be a song that could out do what Moon Stone had played the night before. The man had done it with so much skill and talent that Snow had rarely heard anything close to that quality, despite all the places he had gone. Only Older Brother had been on the same level, and Snow had not heard such skill in so long that he had almost forgotten how much beauty could be in a song.

But Red Orchid's voice was a gift on its own. One could say that her song was less beautiful than Moon Stone's; her voice was more beautiful than any instrument and she was just as skilled with her _pipa_ as Moon Stone had been with his _erhu_. The subject of her song was also a shock for Snow. Her words were almost a blur to him but Snow saw the peach orchard clearly as her voice washed over him, sweeping him from the village and back to that faraway place he had once called home. He could almost see the bright moon shining down onto the heavily scented grove, peaches white and red, gleaming pale and gray in the moonlight. There, Older Brother sat in the embrace of the dark branches, staring up at the same sky Snow was under now. He wondered then if the wind could carry such a sweet song to his brother's ears, and almost faintly, he imagined that he could smell the over-sweet scent of peaches brushing past him on the gentle breeze.

Snow could not remember more than a handful of words after the song was over. For a long time no one said anything. Only when Red Orchid rose and bowed did the thundering applause snap Snow out of his trance. He could only clearly recall a few lines from her song...

"_...I used to dream of the peach grove  
__The sweetest scent in my sleep_

_The night is inky and starless  
__The moon is my cold, pale light  
__Lacking the colors of the day time  
__You wait in the gray of the peach grove..._"

In those lines Snow remembered Older Brother so strongly he felt that he could almost touch the other in his memories.

"That was her mother's song," Sea Lotus told him as they walked home that evening. "She hasn't sung that song in a long time. Moon Stone must have made her feel like he was giving her a challenge." The old woman's voice was very grave.

"Was?" Snow asked softly.

"Seven years ago, her mother passed away from this world," Sea Lotus answered.

"Was it that long ago?" Little Dragon asked suddenly. The old couple shared a look, full of sorrow and unspoken things. "Seven years already, hm?" The old man said with a sigh, looking suddenly older than Snow had ever seen him. "She doesn't sing that song very often anymore," the old man echoed at last. "Too many memories, I suppose."

"Far too many," Sea Lotus agreed.

Snow looked up at the moon, almost full, remembering how the home he left behind so long ago had suddenly came to mind so sharply in the sound of her voice. It had been a song full of memories for him too. Good memories that can so easily turn into painful ones. Snow wondered then what kind of memories the old couple shared concerning a song about peaches when there were no peach groves for leagues around.

In the dark, he speculated on how beautiful Red Orchid must be to accumulate such varied solicitors for her hand. Was he mistaken in thinking that a merchant's daughter could not match the painted city beauties he had already seen on his travels? He had underestimated her and her suitors before, but now he knew he had been wrong to do so. Snow began to wonder what other surprises this small town held for him in the days to come.

* * *

The third night was literature. Snow saw people crowd around the lantern selling stalls and remembered how excited Sparrow had been on hearing that the lanterns were selling well. Little Dragon was teasing Snow earlier on who he thought the best poet was in the four suitors he had already seen. "Moon Stone," he had said automatically. The man was obviously well educated. However, as the night wore on, he began to wonder if Moon Stone might suffer the same affliction of bad poetry his brother had.

Then again, no one was really like Older Brother...

The first contestant was the man with the thick eye-brows. The man had played the drums quite well, but it paled in comparison to Moon Stone's skill and Red Orchid's voice. He was, however, rather awful at poetry. Granted, Snow had seen worse. The villagers clapped politely, but Snow could tell no one was very impressed.

The second contestant was the bored looking man. The poem was surprisingly funny and accurately observed their town-life with flare. Snow was unable to hold back a smile when it was over, and several times he had heard some of the men, Little Dragon included, chuckle over the word choices. This man, Snow realized, was far cleverer than he looked.

Then, it was Bear's turn. Snow almost cringed when the man opened his mouth. The other's voice was deep and nuanced as he began to tell a tale. Snow felt his eyes widen with surprise with each passing line. He had thought that Bear's talent would lie in fighting. The man certainly had the girth for it. While the man had awkwardly played the flute two nights earlier, Snow had not thought that literature was where Bear would shine. But shine the man did. The story was more beautifully put together than the song Red Orchid had sang the night before.

Snow could almost feel the magical forest that Bear spoke of spring up around him. The rough feeling of bamboo under his palms returned to him, as did the clear, crisp smell. Snow recalled the feel of the grass being crushed under foot. He could see, in the distance, a young hero fighting a mighty tiger. Men and women chuckled over the cleverness of the small hero, and gasped over the might of tiger as Bear acted out each part with his deep voice and surprisingly agile body.

The story ended and it was Moon Stone's turn. The man wasn't as bad at poetry as Older Brother, but after Bear's performance, nothing but exceptional would have left an impression.

"What a delightful surprise," Little Dragon said as they walked home that evening. There was deep admiration in the old man's eyes for the performance Bear had shown them that night. "I would not have guessed that such a large, awkward looking man would take over the stage so well."

"Red Orchid always has the most interesting suitors," Sea Lotus agreed. "I don't think there's been a year where I'm not surprised who the final four turns out to be."

Snow grinned at the memory of Bear's story. "I was wrong," he agreed easily. "Bear was the most talented tonight," he admitted, thinking how Older Brother would have enjoyed himself if the other could witness this sight. If this was how the suitors contested, Red Orchid's father was truly a brilliant man. His daughter...

No, Snow thought. It was too early to judge her now, but he looked forward to being proven wrong. Snow was still grinning when they reached the hut, and though he did not notice this, the old couple did.

* * *

The fourth night Red Orchid did something unexpected. She replied to each of the four men's composition. Her reply to the thick-browed man was full of the beauty the other's writing lacked. Her reply to the clever man's humor was equally humorous, though not nearly as cutting. With Bear, she answered with a story of her own. Where Bear had told it from the perspective of the young hero, she told it from the perspective of the tiger. A drunken tiger.

Snow remembered suddenly the man with the lantern stopping in front of him and telling him how the other had seen a tiger drink. Funny enough, the way Red Orchid told the tale, Snow could see it too in his mind's eyes. It was such a vivid image that, for the first time, he joined the laughter that flowed over the audience, missing the surprised look Sea Lotus and Little Dragon directed his way.

With Moon Stone, somberness replaced the playful look on Red Orchid's face. In an instant she changed the mood of the crowd from laughter into sorrow. Her poem in reply was full of wishes with prices and losses without gain. A bleak picture she painted, full of the sense of unspoken promises and the endless depth of the sea. At the end, Snow saw from the corner of the stage, Moon Stone walking away in angry strides and wondered what else was in that reply that the audience was not privy to.

"I didn't think she would reveal so much to strangers," Sea Lotus said in the dark, on their way back to the hut.

Little Dragon grunted but added nothing else to the conversation. Snow looked over to his hosts and wondered what they had meant. Somehow, he sensed that if he had asked they would not have answered him. So, once more, he held back the questions at the tip of his tongue and stored them away with all the others that this festival had given him.

* * *

On the fifth night he noticed more prominently that the crowd was still singing verses from the song Red Orchid had sang two nights ago. Some hummed Moon Stone's tune under their breath. A few times, he overheard eager young children acting out the parts of Bear's story and Red Orchid's reply. This was, however, the night for Strategy. The games had been going on since morning, but three of the four contestants had already been beaten. The last game was centered on Go and the too-clever man from two nights ago was the last one standing.

"What is his name?" Snow asked Sea Lotus.

"Cloud," Sea Lotus answered as they browsed the shops lining the streets. A few young women passed them and giggled at each other when they saw Snow's face. He ignored them and gave his full attention to Sea Lotus. Little Dragon had wandered off to talk to some of his friends, and they had left the old man there as he happily exchanged gossip and heated debates about tradition with other leathery looking men of his age. "I've met him in town before," she told Snow, "when I was shopping. He is surprisingly good mannered and has a silver tongue. I had thought that literature would have been his to win, but Bear has turned out to be a surprise for everyone." The old woman smiled at some memory before looking at Snow. "Cloud, though, is more clever than a fox, and I think this year he'll be the first to beat Red Orchid in Go."

Snow raised a brow. "The first?" he asked.

"Don't you know?" Sea Lotus stopped and asked him. "She's never lost in Strategy. No one's come close."

"But this year, you think Cloud will beat her?" he asked, unable to mask how surprising this news was to him. He had never met a woman truly skilled at Go. Granted, most of his cousins had never been interested in the game, but his mother liked it well enough and so did Older Brother, who excelled at it. However, having seen the caliber of Red Orchid's suitors and the skills they had already shown, he realized that to say that Red Orchid was unbeatable in this game was really something to take note of.

"Is her father very good?" he asked.

"Well," Sea Lotus said with a small smile. "Perhaps the only one who used to challenge her at all was her father. I don't know if he plays any more though. He used to come into town to go at it with some of the men at the tavern. The best of them used to lose so quickly to him that they have banned him from being able to place bets for the game, especially on himself."

Snow raised a brow at this. "He gambles?" he finally asked.

Sea Lotus laughed. "Not since two years ago. Red Orchid had caught him red-handed in the middle of a cards game. It's the only one he's allowed to put money on anymore. The villagers still talk about that incident some times. She's got a bit of a temper for some things, so don't believe my husband when he tells you that she's a delicate blossom without thorns."

"She knows how to fight," Snow said reasonably. "I don't think one can consider a woman to be delicate if she can hold her own against a man like Bear."

Sea Lotus grinned. "She'll still be able to surprise you," the old woman replied. "She surprises me every year and I've been watching her do this since she was fourteen years old."

Snow smiled back, causing the old woman to blush and look away. "I look forward to it," he said softly with anticipation seeping into his voice.

At the apex of moon-rise, Cloud won the game of Go as Sea Lotus had predicted. He won by having captured a small square of living stones more than Red Orchid. It had been a close game till the very end. There had been an unguarded look of respect and speculation on Cloud's face while the stones were being counted. The man watched Red Orchid, but even with the results announced she had only bowed gracefully with a gentle smile on her lips. Snow was not sure what went on between them, but Cloud had bowed in return and, eventually, shrugged away that sharp, studying gaze on an otherwise ordinary face.

On the way back, Snow saw that Sea Lotus had bought them three lanterns from the lantern stall.

"Those kids get better at making these every year," Little Dragon commented as they looked over it the next morning.

"Kids?" Snow asked, thinking he knew the answer as soon as he asked it.

"Yeah, those brats you met at the orphanage," Little Dragon answered as he inspected the construct of his lantern with a critical eye. "Didn't they brag to you when you were there? Helps them raise money for as much as a third of the year when they started this activity ten years back. I remember when Red Orchid used to make the prettiest lanterns when she was a little girl." The old man sighed dreamily at the memory. "Her father used to sell those to all his merchant friends who came to visit during the Moon festival. Made a lot of money for the orphanage back then when she wasn't so busy preparing for the games."

"Her mother made the prettiest ones of all," Sea Lotus said as she served them breakfast. "That woman used to paint red orchids and peach blossoms onto hers. She really loved flowers, and those were her two favorites."

"Why did she open an orphanage?" Snow asked.

The old couple looked at each other and Sea Lotus finally answered when her husband gave her a grave nod. "It was something of a promised boon," Sea Lotus began. "She had wanted a child, you see," she continued hesitantly. "The head-man and she had tried for many years, but was unsuccessful. In the end, she laid out offerings to the Sea Emperor. She had offered an orphanage in the bargain while trying to gain the Emperor's aid."

Snow stilled, tilting his head at this story. He had never heard of this before. While each place believed in different gods, he had never heard of gods allowing humans to bargain with them. "Was the sum of it a heavy price in the end?" he asked, knowing that what he was being told was not the whole of the story.

Sea Lotus looked to her husband then and it was Little Dragon who answered. "The Sea Emperor would never accept a price you cannot pay, Snow. But you must understand, one does not go asking the gods for things easily gained. At that point, if you want something," the old man paused with a weary shrug, "you may offer anything."

* * *

On the sixth night, the four men fought each other. Moon Stone had beaten Cloud and, surprisingly, Bear was defeated by thick-brows. "What's the name of that man?" he asked Little Dragon.

"Hm," the old man thought as he scratched his chin, "I think... Sharp Jade?"

Snow raised a brow. It certainly explained the color green that the man wore so prominently. Moon Stone and Sharp Jade faced off and the level they fought on was intense and, had Snow been like much of the audience, it would have been too hard to follow. But even he was startled at their level of skill. It was crystal clear why Sparrow and the angry-boy had been so worried about this part of the competition. Sharp Jade, who had never truly impressed Snow in any of the earlier contests, impressed him now. Moon Stone fought with the same grace and skill he had shown earlier in his playing. It was a beautiful dance, indeed, but it was obvious that this area was Sharp Jade's specialty.

In the end, the man with the thick eye-brows won.

"I admit, in the beginning, I thought Bear would have won this," Snow said as they walked home that evening. He wasn't smiling tonight. Even though he did not know Red Orchid, he didn't think he would really want to see the fight the next day. Not when Sharp Jade was so strong. If she put up any fight at all, Red Orchid would be injured for the effort.

"That man does have the look of a bear, doesn't he?" Little Dragon asked with a forced chuckle. It was obvious from the concerned murmurs when they left town no one was looking forward to the next day.

Sea Lotus looked worriedly to her husband. "I never like this part of the contest," she admitted quietly.

Little Dragon snorted at this. "Well, that stupid fox didn't even bother to show up this year for the mess he's created."

Snow paused at this. "Does he show up every year then?"

"Since four years ago," Sea Lotus answered. "He's one of the few who has beaten Red Orchid in two categories. We all thought he'd be back this year to be the first to beat her in three."

Little Dragon hmphed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Even if he beats her in all four, I'd still not accept him as worthy of her. She never got bruised once before he showed his ugly mug. This is the fruit of that idiot's ideas."

"I don't think he ever meant for her to fight anyone else but him," Sea Lotus said softly.

"Well, he's not here now, is he?" Little Dragon asked heatedly.

"If she's not very skilled, it would be a quick fight," Snow cut in before the argument could escalate.

Sea Lotus sighed and Little Dragon looked at Snow with annoyance. "You don't know Red Orchid," the old man grumbled. "To say that she's as stubborn as a mule is to be unfair to the mule." Snow quirked a brow in reaction. He had heard the head-man's daughter being described like this before. If he remembered correctly, it had been Sea Lotus at the time too, though it didn't quite sound the same now that Little Dragon was saying it. "If there's one thing I have against Fox, it's that he's made her worse. Now she won't stop until she's unconscious or dead." Little Dragon said the last part so seriously that Snow could understand the other's worry.

"It's why Dance was moved to be the last event in the Moon festival," Sea Lotus explained, worry marring the space between her brows. "It used to be the event that opened the contests. Everyone loved the way Red Orchid danced. It would get the audience excited about the rest of the events. She would end it all with Music and people would be humming the songs the suitors played for days after the Moon festival was over. But ever since Dancing included fighting... well, it had to be the last event. Since then I'm not sure if our Little Orchid is awake for the lanterns going up when she loses."

"I'm not sure if she's awake for it when she wins," Little Dragon butted in. "Sometimes she's in bed for days after the festival," the old man lamented. "Last year, she broke her arm and wore a sling all through the ninth month."

"The first year she cracked two ribs as well," Sea Lotus recalled.

"Why doesn't she just concede that she can't win this event then?" Snow asked. By now, at least, he had learned the futility of asking why her father hadn't stepped in and stopped her.

"Because," Sea Lotus answered while reaching for her husband's hand. "When she wins-" the old woman paused and a pitying look came over her face "-I don't think I've ever seen anyone look happier."

* * *

It was the last night of the festival. Snow didn't want to go but the lantern lighting would end the festivities. It was the pinnacle event of the week, and to not attend was to dishonor the Moon Maiden. A part of him was also curious to see Red Orchid's skill as a fighter, even though he also didn't want to witness the discrepancy between her skills and Sharp Jade's.

Reluctantly the three of them went to the festival. Grim faces came into view all around and, for the first time, Snow was able to get closer to the stage and separated from the old couple who wanted to stay farther back. Not many people wanted to be that close to the fight, even though that was the opposite of a crowd's usual reaction to fighting. There were, of course, a lot of the younger people and foreigners up close to the stage. Some of them managed to wear excited expressions, though a few of them got glared at for exhibiting too much enthusiasm. Snow wasn't sure what they were excited about. After all, it was a man fighting a woman, and Sharp Jade was a skilled fighter on a whole different level than most men could ever hope to be in their life-time.

"I'm going to bet on Red Orchid," he heard a young man say to his friend.

The young man's friend snorted at this. "You're a fool for her," the other answered but took the proffered coins. "But I'll take your money. Sharp Jade will definitely win this one."

"Did you forget how she fought last year? She tied with Fox!" Another young man said pointedly.

"Why don't you bet on her too then?" the second man goaded silkily.

"I'm not betting on anyone this year," the third man refused. "I'm just saying you shouldn't discount her."

Snow raised a brow at this and looked around. He saw that a few others around him were also making and taking bets. The older people in the back wore varying degrees of worried expressions, though there were a few excited faces from foreign looking visitors in the back. As his gaze swept around, he saw the man he had met at the edge of the bamboo forest. The man still wore a black scarf around his face and an eye-patch. The other was casually leaning against a tree, but his eye was intent on the right hand side of the stage and he looked rather intense, despite his face being mostly hidden.

It was also the side that Red Orchid emerged from soon after. For the first time Snow was close enough to see her face clearly. His eyes were drawn to her hair first. The long crimson strands were braided and looped out of the way of her face and combat. His gaze finally was able to trail over her features. She was fine-boned with high cheek-bones, a delicate nose and full lips. Her skin seemed to glow in the lamp light in that same way it had glowed in the sun. Her eyes were green, so dark a green it was almost black and gold in the fire light. She wore men's clothes for the fight, light pants and a light jacket that obscured her figure more than it revealed.

She was beautiful. It was muted by the clothing and hairstyle she sported, but even so he could see it. Snow felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her. She was not expertly painted to have any particular feature enhanced nor was she wearing jewels or silken gowns, but she did not need it. If she wore the make-up he had seen women in the cities wear, he would not doubt that she could outshine the best of them.

The thing he noticed next was that she held a sheathed sword in a plain, wooden scabbard polished to a rich dark shine. He had seen Sharp Jade fight the night before. The man used fists and not weapons, which made the other far more skilled and far more deadly in close combat. However, with a sword, if she was skilled, perhaps she had a chance...

Sharp Jade came out from the left. His face held a worried expression, but as soon as he saw Red Orchid draw her blade his features relaxed and he nodded at her with the barest hint of a smile. Snow paused too, for Red Orchid held no ordinary wooden or bronze blade. Her sword was living steel, brightly glowing, pale as the full moon overhead. There was no doubt that she was serious about this fight, and Little Dragon's words the night before came back to him.

This was a woman who neither asked for mercy nor played at the games of war.

"Your father would be proud to have such a daughter as you," he heard Sharp Jade say to Red Orchid as he bowed to her respectfully.

She smiled a calm and beautiful smile at her opponent and returned the gesture before she changed her stance, as graceful and precise as Moon Stone's had been. Snow wondered then if she was of a similar caliber. "Let's make sure Father enjoys the show then," she answered and then struck.

In the blink of an eye she was across the stage. It was rare for Snow to see a fighter move so quickly, but in that moment as Sharp Jade caught her naked blade with his naked hands, Snow knew who the winner of the fight would be. Red Orchid didn't look surprised and kicked out at Jade without blinking an eye. She was experienced, Snow realized, for she did not attempt to pull her blade out of Jade's grasps. Whoever taught her was a skilled fighter too.

Sharp Jade's legs responded, blocking her kick for kick and avoiding her feet as she tried to catch his on the way down. Red Orchid changed her tactics quickly, seeing her disadvantage in being within his range. She attacked Jade's upper body, knowing he would deflect with hands and arms, and through a series of quick, precise movements, her blade was freed and she was circling mid-ranged instead.

Snow saw Jade look down at one arm and flex his fingers experimentally before a smile of respect came over the other's lips. The man looked to Red Orchid and his stance changed. Her dark-green eyes sharpened and she responded with a stance of her own. Snow recognized both and he frowned. What was Red Orchid thinking? This time it was Jade who attacked first, and if Red Orchid had been fast in crossing the stage, Sharp Jade was even faster.

The crowd gasped. In a green blur Jade was across the stage and in front of her. Despite how quickly she responded in retreating, Jade was faster. When he caught up with her, Jade struck and Snow realized that the other man's hands were like blades. Snow finally understood the reason behind the relief on Jade's face when Red Orchid had revealed her sword. This time it was Red Orchid who dodged, and she flowed as fluid as water. Snow could see that while Red Orchid was not as skilled as Moon Stone had been in attacking, she was specifically trained to dodge. It really was as graceful as a dance, but where Jade could risk a few hits from her, Snow doubted that Red Orchid could afford the same. She would always be at a disadvantage in closed quarters. He could see her struggle to disengage but Sharp Jade was not allowing her to get away. He matched her step for step, and every time she shifted to dodge, Jade was on her from the other side. While Jade was not able to land a hit on her, the man did not show an ounce of frustration and was quick enough to prevent her from getting out of reach.

Snow could see that if this was a fight concerning stamina, Jade would also win.

Still, Red Orchid's face was serious and concentrated, equally not frustrated nor panicking. She had been trained by a warrior and she moved as one who had spent hours perfecting each movement of the body till the movement became ingrained. He had seen some women fight during his travels, but he had never seen a woman fight a man as skilled as Sharp Jade and hold her own for so long. It would be a feat for most men to have lasted as long against Sharp Jade, Moon Stone had proven this, and had it been any other man then Red Orchid would have won. Still, Snow wondered if she knew that she would not be victorious in this but her face revealed nothing of her thoughts.

Suddenly Red Orchid struck out at Sharp Jade's wrist, landing a hit that Snow almost missed seeing occur. Without warning Red Orchid was out of range again and, again, Sharp Jade was flexing his other hand, a puzzled look on his face. However, she did not strike her opponent down at this opportunity. Instead, Red Orchid panted, trying to catch her breath in this brief moment of respite instead. Jade looked up, this time his expression was serious. Without taking a stance, Sharp Jade moved and this time there wasn't anything held back. Red Orchid's expression was grim but her arms rose in response even as she jumped back again from the high kick Sharp Jade aimed at her chest. Snow saw her wince as she struggled to get out of range, her sword rattled where she had stopped Jade's foot, a hair's breadth from her face with the flat side of her blade. Her arms quivered from the impact and Snow guessed that her fingers were numbed by the deflection.

Jade had not touched her. However, the man didn't need to. The force of the other's kick had made the very air a weapon and thin lines of red appeared along Red Orchid's delicate cheekbones. Then she was pulling back again, both hands griping her sword this time. It was more evidence to Snow that she could barely hold onto the weapon that gave her just enough room to run away but not enough time to gain the upper hand. Jade, surprising Snow even more, increased his already incredible speed. He was ready for her when Red Orchid landed, following her backwards retreat with such quick, deft steps that Snow could not help but wish to slow down the fight so that he could admire the other man's footwork. She still dodged beautifully, her eyes studying Jade's moves and mimicking the other like a mirror so perfectly that Snow could tell she had a gift for this.

Jade grinned at her cleverness, boyish and endearing. The tension in the fight left his face and her shoulders. For a little while they played at this and Snow was not sure when the contest became a lesson. However, Red Orchid shot Jade a look. Again they parted and changed their stances accordingly. This time, Snow did not recognize either. The tension was back again, obliterating the playful mood that had been there earlier. Red Orchid was holding her sword one-handed again, the way it was supposed to be held.

This time she struck again. While it was obvious that she was out-classed in attacking, Red Orchid also knew that for her to gain ground she had to attack. In this type of fighting she could not wait for the opponent to come to her. Despite all that she must have already realized, she advanced without hesitation in her swing, though her speed was slower. Jade was a wall of offensive attacks and he was almost as good at dodging and parrying as Red Orchid was, without a sword for aid to enlarge his range.

Still, the determined look was back, replacing the grim line of her mouth. Red Orchid lashed out with her sword in precise lunges and expert thrusts. She was quick enough to pull back before Jade could catch her blade again, but it meant she had to plan her moves ahead instead of taking full advantage of unexpected openings. There were, unfortunately, no unexpected openings anyway. They danced, back and forth, Red Orchid staying out of arms' reach with Jade blocking her sword swings and thrusts. Then, one of Jade's deadly legs was flying out again. The shift had been so slight that it had caught even Red Orchid by surprise. She blocked the high kick by instinct, but the ashen look on her face told Snow that she had paid the price for it too. Her sword clattered to the ground, and this time it was not just numbed fingers she struggled with. Snow would not be surprised if this year she wore an arm sling all through the ninth month again.

Even as he thought this, Red Orchid was kicking out herself. The worried concern on Jade's face disappeared as he instinctively backed off from her flying and then harshly descending foot. She would not yield. The face she wore now was one of pained determination, even though it was obvious to Snow, Jade, and probably Red Orchid, that this would not last.

Her defenses were much stronger than Moon Stone's had been. That man had incredible defenses too. But this skill cost her, for Red Orchid's offenses were almost halved by the intense training she must have under gone to gain the skills she had. Jade allowed her a moment to collect herself and Snow could see the ire on her face for this small mercy. Then her opponent attacked again. With each passing moment Jade added a little more speed to his attacks, but still Red Orchid dodged him. Snow could see why the old man had said she wouldn't stop until she was dead or unconscious. She was persisting through the pain admirably, more than he had expected from her, more than he could have expected from most warriors.

She had been proving him wrong all week and Snow was almost becoming used to being wrong about her.

Then, she took a risk and her hand shot out and struck Jade on his thigh. The man deflected too late but still managed to hit her wrist so sharply that this time she did not bother to retreat out of range. Red Orchid's face had gone completely white with the pain of Jade's strike but she did not cry out. However, Jade was not able to follow up. He was down on one knee and looking up in surprise at her. If she had not been blinded with pain, if her eyes had not been so glassy and lost as she fought off her body's reaction, this fight could have been hers.

Instead, Red Orchid swayed and held her broken wrist to her chest. Her long pause was enough for Jade to get back on his feet again, albeit unsteadily, and the man moved. She was so close that Jade did not need his legs to move. Otherwise this might really have ended in a stand-still. The edge of Jade's palm was suddenly resting against the side of her neck, and the man's form was flawless despite his own unsteadiness. "Yield," he saw Jade form the word, though Snow could not hear it this time from where he stood. Jade had spoken those words so quietly that it was obviously meant only for Red Orchid's ears.

But Red Orchid's green eyes blazed darkly instead with defiance as she regained a bit of her senses. Before she could even shake her head to respond Jade struck, hitting the back of her neck with a precise movement of hand. The man had seen that same fire and Snow guessed that the other knew what the look had meant. Red Orchid finally fell forward into unconsciousness. Sharp Jade caught her falling form awkwardly in his arms, stumbling under her weight and ending up on his knees again. Only then Snow realized that whatever Red Orchid had done, her strike had indeed left its own mark. Sharp Jade, however, was looking a little redder in the face than before as a few servants scrambled onto the stage to help him with the unconscious Red Orchid.

In the end, the result was as Snow had predicted, but Red Orchid's skill had indeed been worth seeing; her will was as strong as Little Dragon had warned him about. He watched the judges of the fight declare Sharp Jade the winner of the round, though it was not necessary. A few people clapped and Snow had been among them. The man deserved it, even though parts of the crowd seemed to express disapproval over Jade's victory.

"It's too bad she didn't win," he heard the man from earlier say with a sigh.

"It's a good thing you didn't bet on it," his friend commented.

"Her smile would have been worth it," the young man who had lost the bet said softly, not looking away from the stage as he spoke. Instead, the other longingly watched as the unconscious Red Orchid was carried off by her servants.

"Yeah," his friend agreed, clapping his shoulder as they watched the servants with envy. "But not this year, friend. Not this year."

The people left the town after the stage was cleared. In chattering groups they headed for the beach, though most were sobered by the results of the last contest. When the moon rose to its apex, people clustered around the lit torches placed in the sand already, everyone going with lanterns in hand. The dark waves came in and sparkled under the light of the full moon. Lighting their lanterns from the torches, Snow watched as waves of lighted lamps were cast into the sky. His own quickly disappearing from view as it was swallowed into the masses of other lighted lanterns rising.

He watched couples, young and old, holding each other as they too watched their lanterns float up to greet the Moon. Young children laughed, chasing each other on the beach and on the edges of the waves when they got bored of watching. Friends joked and quietly talked amongst themselves, their voices often drowned out by the crashing sound of waves hitting the surf. A song began to be played in the distance and, slowly, voices all around Snow soon rose to join it. He did not know this song, so he listened as he watched the lights ascend into the illuminated heavens overhead.

"_Dear Moon Maiden,  
__Beautiful and bright,  
__Your face is full of light tonight_

_Pull in the tides for us  
__Bless our rice to be sweet  
__ and our wines sweeter still  
__Don't turn back home tonight_

_Lovely maiden of the Moon  
__We light a thousand fires in your name  
__With our voices we will send  
__A thousand wishes to the skies  
__To keep you company_

_You are the one light  
__On the darkest nights  
__With only dreams to accompany you  
__Tonight we honor you with our voices too  
__Your endless watch_

_Kind lady of the Moon,  
__Clear and cutting,  
__No shadows mar your face_

_Let our fires kiss your cool visage  
__Bless our joys to be sweet  
__ and our tears sweeter still  
__Don't turn back home tonight_

_Bathe us with your soft white light  
__Night maiden in the black silk skies  
__Linger just a little longer  
__ by our side  
__Oh nightly, constant friend..._"

* * *

**to be continued...**

* * *

Untouched Snow = Sasuke

Red Orchid = Sakura

Moon Stone = Neji

Cloud = Shikamaru

Sharp Jade = Rock Lee

Fox = Naruto

I think you can guess who the unnamed/eye-patch man at the start of this chapter is.

Bear, Sea Lotus, and Little Dragon, as well as the town's people, belong in the fantasy of this tale and do not come from the Naruto-verse.

The songs they sing belong to the story. The rest of the peach grove song may be revealed in later chapters.

Orchid's instrument is the pipa: _en dot wikipedia dot org slash wiki slash Pipa_

Bear and Snow's instrument is the bamboo flute.

Sample of pipa and bamboo flute: _www dot youtube dot com slash watch ? v = RJqZIkvShdc_

Moon Stone's is the erhu: _en dot wikipedia dot org slash wiki slash Erhu_

Sample of the erhu: _www dot youtube dot com slash watch ? v = L _ K54nEqfSo_

Sharp Jade played the drums.


End file.
